andromeda in a thimble
by songs
Summary: 49/60. Drabbles. The funniest things happen in elevators; — eren ო mikasa.
1. her eyes like opal moonrise

**title: **her eyes like opal moonrise

**pairing: **eren ო mikasa

**setting: **throughout canon.

**summary: **He loves her, too much to let her believe that she might love him.

**notes: **originally posted on my tumblr._  
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**disclaimer: **own nothing!

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_"you can't."_

_._

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It's Mikasa's eyes that scare him the most: they are alive, open—opal moonrise—they are _beautiful, _and they cannot lie. He isn't stupid: he catches her glances—sometimes lingering, sometimes tender—he sees the raw honesty in them that she does not always put to words.

And sometimes, in his brief, snatches of peace, of serenity—where he forgets the blood on his hands and the Titans and the weight on his shoulders—he thinks that she is beautiful. He thinks that he probably, after everything, loves her. Probably. _Definitely._

Then he remembers her eyes, and he stills. He remembers her scarf. Remembers her death-wish to protect him. And he hollows.

Mikasa might love him, and this scares him. More than the Titans. More than dying. Because it's different from his love for her. He doesn't know if it is love or if it is something more broken, a shade of penance, a nuance of gratitude she cannot quite shake off. He's frightened that this may be how she feels she must pay her dues: with her life, with her heart.

He could never hurt her. Mikasa gives, gives, _gives _until she is nothing, and it frightens him, to the bones. He cannot take. He cannot be another one to bleed her dry. He loves her, too much to let her believe that she might love him.

So he pushes her away—with words, with his eyes, his hopes. He sets her free, tries to erase the internal compass she has always set towards him. He lets her go, because he won't hurt anyone he loves.

He _won't. _


	2. yarn & needles

**title: **yarn & needles

**pairing: **eren ო mikasa

**setting: **post-canon.

**summary: **Eren teaches his daughter how to knit.

**notes: **SO I've realized that I've been posting a TON of SNK ficlets on my tumblr, _anorable, _but that's not very fair to my readers on here! This fic used to just be _her eyes like opal moonrise, _but will now comprise of all my tiny little eremika/sometimes gen ficlets. Enjoy!_  
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**disclaimer: **own nothing!

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"…So, the yarn goes here, right around the needle, and voila! The—"

"…Daddy."

"—purl stitch! You get it, Carla?"

"_Daddy._"

"Yeah?" Eren beams, staring down at his daughter. She has Mikasa-dark hair and earth colored eyes—when she smiles or speaks, the light almost bursts through the evergreen of her gaze.

She's perfect.

Not that he'd ever say it _out loud_. The girl already had a head as big as that asshole, Jean. And the gods know they don't need another Jean walking on this earth.

But now, her gaze is dull, as she glares down at the cherry-red yarn in her palms, the wooden needles at her side.

"…This is girly," she says simply, dropping her supplies to the floor. "Why am I learning how to knit? Uncle Armin doesn't knit. _Mom _doesn't even knit."

Her father is absolutely horrified. "_Hey, _twerp. _I _knit, and _look,_" He flexes his hands. "These suckers helped defeat the Titans. They don't _do_ girly. Knitting is _awesome._"

Carla, though, is unimpressed. "…Sure, Daddy. Whatever you say."

"I'm _serious." _Eren most definitely is _not picking a fight _with his nine year old daughter. Not at _all. _"You know your mom's favorite scarf? The red one? _I _helped knit that. Me and…" He pauses for a split-moment. "your grandmother. You think _your _mom's a hardass? You should've met your grandma."

_"Language!" _Mikasa calls from the other room, and Carla snickers.

"The one I'm named after?" Carla finally asks, and when her father nods, she says, slowly, "When did you knit mom's scarf?"

"I was a kid," he says, and Carla eyes her father, noticing the sudden softness, the watercolor-lightness of him as he speaks. "Younger than you. I did a shit job, and your grandma kept helping me out and fixing my mistakes. I hadn't even met your mom yet. The scarf was just supposed to keep me warm through the winter… but…" He smiles. "I met someone who needed it more."

Carla doesn't know whether to swoon or gag, so she settles for the latter. "Gross. You're my parents. _Stop, _please."

"You _asked, _you brat!" He leans forward and ruffles her hair, and Carla notes the callouses that line his palms. _Not girly at all._

With a heaving, over-dramatic sigh, Carla cranes her neck and dips to the floor, picking up the fallen yarn, and needles.

Her father's eyes are questioning, and she thinks _ugh, do I need to say it? Did Mom always spell everything out for him_, before she clears her throat and asks:

"…How do you do the purl stitch, again?"

(She's never seen her father smile so wide.)


	3. hands

**title: **hands

**pairing: **eren ო mikasa, eren interactions with jean, levi, armin.

**setting: **in-universe.

**summary: **Eren's hands won't heal after he shifts.

**notes: **Also from my tumblr. This little plotbunny invaded my mind and wouldn't leave, so here's a quick drabble._  
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**disclaimer: **own nothing!

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_._

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When he awakens from the dreamlike, Titan-shift, his eyes sweep towards his hands. They are clean of blood and grime but dotted with a constellation of scars—teeth-marks—like patchy, red-grooved crescents staining the once clear, open skin.

They get worse, after every shift. They don't hurt; the pain is only a murmur, a dull, whisper-ache. But they don't heal, either; they are a maze of red and white, of old, muted scars and new, red-hollow rivers.

_So, you won't be a hand-model anytime soon,_ Jean huffs, stirring his stew. His eyes are sympathetic, though, but his words are not. _Just keep those suckers away from me while I'm eating. Jeez._

_…It's a tool of the trade_, Levi says, softly, but not emptily. There's a splint of something, something _gentle _in the way he says it, like he knows Eren is more than just skin and bones and brute force, more than a weapon, more than a Titan-shield.

Armin touches them tentatively, and winces for him, tracing the scar-ridges with his driftwater eyes. _I'm sorry,_ he says, even though they both know it's nobody's fault. He runs circles over the bone of his thumb. _They're not so bad though, Eren. Really. They aren't._

Mikasa, though, is different. There is a flare of anger in her eyes; they glow like boiling moonwater when she catches sight of his broken palms. Her gaze is harsh but her touch is not; gently, gently enough to remind him of the Mikasa of _before, _before the Titans, before the war and death and fighting—she holds them in her own, unblemished, bone-pale palms, and says: _You need medicine for these._

Eren huffs, _They're scars. They won't heal, Mikasa, so come off it._

The look in her eyes is penetrating, soul-seeing, before she brings up his mosaic hands to the pink of her lips.

Eren's eyes flicker shut, for a moment, before he stammers, suddenly, trying to pull away: _What are you doing? Why?_

She is silent. She lets him go with her hands, but not with her eyes:

_They're still you, _is all she says, but it is more than enough.


	4. you're always you

**title: **you're always you

**pairing: **eren ო mikasa, or should i say, erena ო mikoso?

**setting: **in-universe. genderbent. YES.

**summary: **Genderbent. Mikoso suggests Erena needs a haircut.

**notes: **Also from my tumblr... do you see a pattern? LOL._  
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**disclaimer: **own nothing!

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_._

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"Piss off, Mikoso," Erena seethes, raking a bony hand through the wave of her hair. Her hair is _not _too long to kick Titan-ass. Hell, she could kill Titans with it knotted around her eyes. Totally. She is a _Titan-killing-machine—_

"You'll get hurt," is all her says, in his usual, monosyllabic way. He stares down at her with, heavy, star-pale eyes, as if daring her to question him.

She has the undeniable urge to strangle him; her summer-green gaze snaps to the ever-red scarf wrapped around his neck. A glimmer of mischief crackles in her voice: "You still wear the scarf all the time. _That _could seriously get you hurt."

It starts out as a joke, but as the thought flits through Erena's mind, the scarf looks more and more like a blaring, _danger!_ sign.

Mikoso goes blurry for a moment—like he always does when Erena is thinking of a) Titans, or b) protecting her loved ones—and clears in her periphery as he murmurs—never mumbles, _never _mumbles, always _clear—_"That's different."

Erena remembers: a boy, a knife, a savior. Remembers wrapping a scarf around a neck much thinner, much more boyish and hungry, remembers an almost-brother. Remembers Mikoso saving her, after that, time and time again, remembers the closeness of him, remembers thinking he might not be much of a brother, after all.

She huffs, "I'll look ugly with short hair." Her eyes go wide with horror. "I might have a horse-face, like _Jeana_!"

Mikoso's gaze goes soft, his voice light with almost-laughter. Erena does not know she will hear these words, see this same face, only harder, darker, when she crawls out of Titan-skin and Titan-bones and Titan-veins. She does not know that Mikoso will touch her shoulder, and say "You're always pretty, no matter what," again, like a mantra. "You're always _you_."

All she knows, now, in this moment, in the 104th training squad, is that she'll be okay with cutting her hair. She knows nothing yet, almost nothing at all, but in this angle of time, it is enough for her.


	5. soothe

**title: **soothe

**pairing: **eren ო mikasa

**prompt: **Eren touches Mikasa's scar.

**setting: **sometime in canonverse lol?

**disclaimer: **i own nothing.

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_"but it's not."_

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For days, he catches her tugging at the same strand of hair, lacing it over the white of her temple, and it is only when his eyes linger and she snaps her head away that the realization hits.

He stills—his shoulders stiffening— sharp as bony mountains as he trains his gaze on her. The look he gives her is desperate-green and unwavering, and he notices the wash of quiet that overtakes the gleam of her face.

"…Mikasa," he says, slowly, as if tasting the name for the first time. It comes out hoarse, cracked, like the edges of sandpaper, of a memory: of Titan-fists and nails and desperation and a doll with Mikasa's eyes and the slam of maneuver-gear against his palm and—oh, _oh_. Eren's eyes see through Mikasa's mask of hair and hands as he catches sight of the river-canal of a scar on the side of her face.

_I did this to her, _his mind goes numb. _I did this to her. I hurt her. I really, really _hurt _her._

"Calm down," comes her voice: soothing, home-like, Shiganshina-soft and so utterly _normal, _as if they were talking about the weather, arguing over who should eat the last steamed bun and _not at all about the fact that he hurt her._

"I—"

"You didn't know," she says, voice going ever-quiet: there is not a single angle to the words. "It's okay, Eren. You didn't know. It's nothing. It's—"

_"—_How the _hell._" The words come out raw, furious. "Can you call that _nothing._"

Her lips part, as if she is going to say something else, but Eren stops her, his hand—_human, small, alive, gentle—_reaching out, before his eyes go moon-wide and he retracts the touch, as if thinking better of it. If Mikasa notices, she says nothing, and he mutters, eyeing the ground, "I hurt you. I. Hurt. _You._" He inhales, sharp. "I'm not—I'm _never—it's never supposed to be you. _I'm not supposed to hurt you. I…I can't. More than anything."

Her eyes go soft, wet, almost—like gray-river-water, and he decides, in that moment, that they are beautiful.

Tentatively, he reaches out; his touch is gossamer, iridescent, as he skims his fingertips over the curl of the scar and Mikasa sighs, sighs like she's been tired for one hundred years.

Her eyes are closed as she murmurs: "It's okay, Eren." A breath. "I forgive you. It's okay."

Silence. A step away. And then: "But it's not." The words are hard, unforgiving. "Mikasa. It's _not._"


	6. of soup and fairy kisses

**chapter title: **of soup and fairy kisses

**prompt:** Mikasa's sick. Eren's overprotective. Cuteness ensues.

**disclaimer: **own nothing!

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"…This is a—"

"Face mask," Eren supplies helpfully, placing the strip of cloth into Jean's hands. The grin on his face is unwavering—all sharp and teeth and mischief. "I made sure it was big enough for you, too."

Jean, however, is unimpressed. "I just want to see how Mikasa's doing. I'm not—"

"If you wanna see Mikasa," Eren cuts in, voice jutting. "You need to wear this. She's already sick. She doesn't need you and your horse-breath to make it worse."

"_What the hell,_" Jean grits his teeth, eyes bugging. "did you just say, _Jaeger_?"

"You heard me." Eren pats the cloth in Jean's grasp. "Remember, _sanitation, _pony-boy."

Eren steps into Mikasa's room, and Jean is left to mull over what the _fuck _just happened and what"pony-boy" is supposed to mean.

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"I… I need to train," Mikasa moans, wiping sweat from her brow. Eren lightly taps her fingers out of the way, wiping a warm washcloth over the ruby-flush of her skin.

"If by _train," _Eren says, enunciating the word, "you mean eat the soup Armin made you and drink this tea, then yeah. You're gonna train your ass off."

"How 'm I gonna…" Her fever-words are slurred. "Protect you… Ere…n?"

"That's easy," he says, face softening. "_You're not_."

"…Gimme my… scarf…"

Eren sighs, eyes gentle, and complies.

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Mikasa isn't sure how long she has the flu, or how many days she sleeps in the sick-quarters of the 104th squadron dorms, but what she remembers, more than Eren's doting and Armin's story-books is the feel of something soft on the hot, flushed skin of her cheek: something like lips, cool with the whisper of,

_Feel better, Mikasa._

And the distinct sound of Eren's footsteps walking away.


	7. the fashion police

**chapter title: **the fashion police

**pairing: **eren ო mikasa. mikasa & armin friendship.

**summary:** Mikasa needs help picking out her outfit for her date with Eren. Armin rises to the challenge. Sort of.

**disclaimer: **own nothing!

**notes: **prompted on tumblr.

**notes2: **please review? it makes my day!

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"…Mikasa, you can't wear that."

Impatient, she tugs at the scarf on her neck, and then the hem of her dress. "_Why_?"

"Your dress is…" Armin swallows a sad, pitying sigh. "Red. Your scarf is… red. Your lipstick is _red._"

"So?"

Armin likes to think of himself as a calm boy. Really, he does. But he's been here, playing the role of Fashion Adviser for _six hours_—"calm" had run its course before it _died _in Mikasa's bedroom, suffocated by her _amazing_ inability to piece more than one article of clothing together at a time.

"Do you_," _Armin says, slowly, _gently, _enunciating the words, "see a pattern_?_"

Mikasa blinks, looking down at herself. "No."

Armin realizes that if he wants to leave at some point _in this lifetime, _he needs some heavy-duty manipulation. And fast.

"Why don't you just take off the scarf," he says, tone kind. Tender. _My best friend is colorblind, _is what he thinks, internally. "The dress is fine alone. It won't clash, that way."

Mikasa gives him a sharp, sharp look, that roughly translates to, _You will die a thousand deaths if you repeat those words to me again, Armin Arlert._

Armin smiles sheepishly. "Ah. Kidding?"

Which leads them back to square one.

"You know," Armin says, thoughtfully, tapping his chin. "I'm pretty sure Eren would be fine with whatever you wear on your first date, Mikasa. He'd probably be fine if you came _just _wearing your scarf—"

Armin's words trickle off into laughter, but Mikasa's face is pensive, as she studies the scarf. _There's a thought._

"…You're right."

She then proceeds to step out of her cherry-red dress.

"_Mikasa!" _Armin's cheeks go red, as he presses his palm over his eyes. "_What are you doing_."

She stares at him. "But you said—"

"_I was joking_!"

And so, began hour seven.


	8. of ninjas and haircuts

**title**: of ninjas and haircuts

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa

**prompt**: eremika in naruto!verse

**summary**: Eren and Mikasa share a moment while training on the same genin team. Ninja!verse.

**disclaimer**: own nothing

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Mikasa growls as Levi-"sensei" (like _hell_ she's going to give this moody little man that much respect) yanks her back by the hair. Her Shiganshina-forehead protector goes loose as he pulls at the tresses—and try as she might, she can't break free from his grasp.

"Let go," she says, through her teeth, groping for the kunai in her weapon-pouch.

"That's what you get," he drawls. "For charging at me without thinking. I expected more from the great Miss Ackerman."

"You—" Her glare is volatile, simmering starlight. "You kicked Eren. _In the face_. And called it a 'life lesson'."

"Oh, so it was to protect your boyfriend." He pulls on her hair, and she seethes. "Or is it _brother_?"

"Neither," she bites out. Mind made up, she moves the kunai towards her hair, and Levi's eyes widen at her intention—and that is when she sees him: Eren, darting out from behind the trees (from the "enormous, big-ass forest", as her idiot sensei had so eloquently called it), kunai in hand.

"Now, Mikasa!" he calls, and it all happens in an instant: Levi blocks him easily, but lets Mikasa go in the process. She rushes to her feet, just as Armin leaps out from his spot in the forest, and activates a genjutsu to conceal them for the time being.

Eren and Armin flock to either side of her, and all together, they step towards their squad-leader, ready to complete their first "mission" as genin.

X

"…We never did disarm him." Armin presses an ice-pack to his bruised cheek. "All we needed to do was take that kunai from his pouch."

"He's agile," Mikasa grunts. "For an incorrigible_ midget_."

"Mikasa!" Eren's eyes widen at her uncharacteristic display of disrespect, and she can't really blame him. They've always been heeding towards their elders. "Anyway. We should be grateful. He said that we passed since we relied on teamwork. Even if we… sort of failed at it."

Mikasa's anger softens, and then she brings her hands to her hair. Armin's eyes go water-bright, but it is Eren who speaks aloud:

"Are you okay?" he asks, and it's strange, hearing her words in his mouth. "It looked like it hurt."

"I'm fine," she half-lies, because her pride is pretty injured after all is said and done.

And then Eren comes close. For a second, Mikasa's breath hitches, and she wonders if she's dreaming as he laces a hand through her hair. "You were gonna cut it off, back there, weren't you?"

"…Yes."

She notices a bit of red in his cheeks, on the bones of his neck, as he pulls back. He looks away, when he adds, "Maybe you should try short hair. It'd be… safer."

"It'll look nice, Mikasa!" Armin chimes, and Eren nods.

"Yeah," he says. "It would."

X

She cuts her hair that same night.


	9. red as blood, red as fate

**chapter title**: red as blood, red as fate

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa

**prompt**: "eren wrapping the scarf around mikasa, and pulling her in for a kiss."

**summary**: The first time he kisses her, he is wrapping the scarf around her neck.

**disclaimer**: own nothing

**notes:** OMG. thank you SOOOO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS. holy bajeesus. they make my day (:

**notes2:** also, i know it's early and pretty far off, but every **100th **reviewer (if this even makes 100 lol) gets to pick a prompt!

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_"it's just a scarf."_

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_Why do you always wear that thing?_

He asks this often. During the summer days, when she is bleary from heat; during training practice, where it could be caught by stray maneuver gear; and then, whenever he can, if only to tease her, if only to bring some semblance of normalcy to the cruel, cruel world they've found themselves in.

But this time, as they sit bloody and broken and tired after yet another Titan-attack, she sighs, leaning towards him. He hasn't asked anything, but Mikasa still gives an answer:

"It really means a lot to me," she says, smoothing the scarlet fabric in her hands. "It's like home. It's like—" _you're always with me, _her eyes say, when her words trickle off.

Eren scratches the back of his neck, blushing, almost as red as the blood coating his hands, his temple. "Stupid. It's just…" He takes in the vehemence in her moon-eyes. "a scarf."

She says nothing, only begins to wrap it around her neck, before the edge of Eren's palm stops her.

"…Let me." His face is poppy-red, the words are in his teeth, but Mikasa feels her heart flutter, nonetheless.

Gently, he places it on her neck, and wraps it until the tails are short enough to be deemed safe (Mikasa will _not get hurt _because of this thing.)

His fingers accidentally skim along the milk-white, bone-river of her jaw, and he feels her go still. He glances up at her eyes—those telling, seeing-eyes—and his hands drop to the ends of the scarf again.

She sighs, or maybe murmurs: "…Eren."

And then he pulls. Her gaze goes wide as she falls into him, and he catches her by the shoulders, but his hands waste no time in finding the softness of her cheek, and his lips waste no time in finding hers.


	10. only once

**chapter title**: only once

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa

**prompt**: idea by **rovaille **on tumblr. Mikasa dies, and Eren wraps the scarf around her. Post Ch. 50.

**summary**: Eren wraps the scarf around Mikasa for the last time.

**disclaimer**: thanks everyone for being so kind!

**notes2:** also, i know it's early and pretty far off, but every **100th **reviewer (if this even makes 100 lol) gets to pick a prompt!

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Her face is a mosaic of blood and white; her eyes are shut, the lashes are coated with red. Eren feels the breath creak from his lungs, feels his bones rattle while he waits for the familiarity of her morning-sighs and her sleep-heavy-eyes. While he waits for her breath to rise and for her eyes to open, all sage and knowing and starlike.

But they don't.

And won't.

_Ever again._

He swallows. He tastes: blood. Anger. The salt of unshed tears and the color of her name in his throat. The familiar feel of failure, the same aching pit of loss, only now it is exponentially larger, only now it is less of a void and more of an abyss, an ever-growing presence that is seeping out from within, and he can't take it. _He can't_, not again, not ever. And not Mikasa. _Not Mikasa._

He eyes the unwound scarf, hanging listlessly from her neck, and, woodenly, his hands find the familiar fabric, and he coils it loosely around the cold skin of her neck, each twist, each moment, laboring past like a lifetime.

"_As many more times as it takes_." He tries to laugh, but it comes out a sob. He shuts his own eyes, and sees: Mikasa, young, growing beautiful, growing old, growing with _him_. And then he opens them, blinks away a rim of tears at her pale, glass form. "How could I have known it'd only be once?"


	11. skinny love

**chapter title**: skinny love

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa

**prompt**: Eren and Mikasa prom AU. prompted on tumblr.

**summary**: Eren and Mikasa go to prom.

**disclaimer**: own nothing

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"So, uh." Eren scratches the back of his neck. "Prom's this weekend."

"Mm." Mikasa absently trails her fingers along the lines of her scarf.

There is a beat of quiet, before Eren asks, voice small: "Are you… gonna go with Jean?"

She doesn't even blink. "No."

"…Oh." He swallows the relief from his tone. "Um. Well. I guess, if you want, we could… y'know. Go together. Since, well. Yeah."

He turns to Mikasa; she is unreadable for a moment, and he thinks, _Abort! Abort mission, you are about to be TURNED DOWN!, _when Mikasa's voice breaks the silence:

"Okay."

He takes in a deep, grateful breath. "Okay?"

"Okay."

X

When he leaves her in the classroom, Mikasa can't help it. She _flails._

X

"You can't wear a scarf with a prom dress," her mother says, and Mikasa glares.

"But… he gave it to me," she says. "Don't boys like when you wear things that they gave to you?"

Her mom sighs good-naturedly, "You can't wear the scarf to prom," she repeats, and Mikasa finally relents.

X

"What if she changes her mind? What if she ends up going with horse-breath? He's taller than me. What if she ends up going with Levi? He's… he's _shorter _than me—what if—"

Armin places both hands on Eren's shoulders, and _shakes him._ Hard.

"Eren," he says, firmly. "_Calm down._"

"But—"

"Nope."

"I—"

"No, Eren."

"But, Armin, she—"

"_—_said yes." _She loves you, _Armin wants to add, but he'll leave that up to his idiot best friend to figure out for himself.

"I know, but—"

Armin's pale, pale eyes flare a bit, giving off a distinct look that says: _Goddammit Eren, get your shit together, _which seems to be everyone's phrase of choice regarding him.

Woe.

"Okay," he says.

Armin pats his shoulder. "Good."

X

"How about this one?" Krista asks, holding up an emerald, mermaid-trimmed piece. "It's green, like you wanted."

Mikasa lets out a very tiny smile, "Not the right color."

"How 'bout this one?" Sasha holds up another dress.

"No, sorry."

It's Ymir who lets out a snort. "We've been here for _three hours_, Ackerman, and all of us have dresses. Except for you. Exactly _what _are you looking for?"

Mikasa goes red as her scarf, and folds into herself. "You can all go home, if you want. I didn't mean to keep you."

"It's no problem, Mikasa!" Krista says brightly, not before elbowing Ymir in the hip.

Mikasa smiles softly, and is about to walk back to the rack, when a forest-green fold of fabric is shoved towards her. Startled, she looks up, right into Annie's icy eyes.

"It's the color of his eyes, right?" she asks, and it isn't hard or cruel, only a statement.

Mikasa blushes, skin hot as she murmurs an honest, open, _Thank you, _and takes the dress from the other girl's hands.

X

Eren straightens out his tie for the eight-hundredth time as he waits in the Ackerman's foyer for Mikasa to come down.

Her father claps him on the back. "You look sharp, Eren."

"T-thanks." Eren tries to smile, but it comes out looking like a grimace. _What the hell, _he thinks to himself,_why am I such a freaking wreck? It's just Mikasa. It's. Just. Mikasa—_

All cohesive thought dies when he sees her at the crest of the staircase; her hair is up, pinned with gold-green jewels—her dress, well, he doesn't really notice the dress so much as how it fits her, how it shapes her, the endless green blending in with the apple-white of her skin.

"…Eren. _Eren." _She's waving a hand in front of his glazed eyes, and he thinks, _shit, when did she get down here? How long was I out?_

She gives him a gentle smile, and doesn't ask _How do I look? _He doesn't say, _You look beautiful, _either. Instead, he takes the rose-corsage from his lapel—it's red, like her scarf, like his promise, _we'll always be together—_and laces it around her wrist.

His hands linger on her skin, and his eyes meet hers.

And she understands.


	12. checkmate

**chapter title**: checkmate

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa

**prompt**: "checkmate" - from tumblr (:

**summary**: She may not be his queen, but she will always be his knight.

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

Mikasa is raised on fairytales. Growing up, her mother reads her stories from old-spined books, weaving together tales of queens and kings and knights in her dreamlike soprano. As she reads, her eyes are both dark and glowing, rooting her to somewhere both faraway and ancient, a place born before the roaming of Titans and long-dead for this past century.

And this is why the men come. They put a sword in her Daddy's stomach and a blade in her mother's story-book mind and binds on Mikasa's wrists. Mikasa, who, for all of her years, has longed for her fairy-stories, for her girlish dreams of goldspun queenhood and prince-charmings, is left with nothing. She is powerless. She is not a damsel in distress—she is only distress, she is only a girl too young for her eyes to have seen so much, a girl too young to have to live like these men want her to.

But then _he_ comes. Not a prince, not a king, but a boy of nine who will soon become both her sword and her armor. _Fight, _he tells her, _if you fight, you will win._

And she does.

A year passes, and then another. And another, and another, and another. Mikasa is not a queen, and Eren is no king. As much as she secretly, horribly longs for it, this is not the truth. In this cruel, ugly world, there is no space for glitter and and iridescent notions of what might be love; there are only the bare moments, numbered by the day.

But Eren, in her heart of hearts, in the rook of her soul, is more than all of that. He is all of what she cannot lose, what she refuses to let go.

And so, even if he does not ask, she will protect him. Even if he does not want her to, she will be his knight.

And it will be enough.


	13. how to care for your titan-baby

**chapter title**: how to care for your titan-baby

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa

**prompt**: "the eremika kid is a Titan-shifter" - from tumblr.

**summary**: Eren and Mikasa find out their daughter is a Titan-shifter. Crack.

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

"Ooh, look, Carla likes peaches!" Armin exclaims, eyes bright.

"I know." Eren's voice takes on a high, dreamy quality that makes his best friend snort, but he ignores it. His daughter is _adorable. _She smiling and spritelike—a wood-fairy-child, all green eyes and dark hair and grinning, baby-teeth as she nibbles at her fruits. "My kid is _cute as hell_."

"_Our kid!_" Mikasa reminds him from upstairs. She's winding a red-tooth comb through the gleam of her hair, and Eren can't help the softness that tugs at the crescent of his smile.

"Yeah—yeah, our kid." He sighs. "She better remember that when she becomes the star of the century. Got it, Carla? Huh?"

Carla giggles, not before flinging a slice of mashed peach into her father's face.

"Good girl," Armin coos, and Eren nudges him.

"_Bad_," Eren enunciates. "_Daddy _awesome. No _attack _Daddy."

"D-d…d—"

Eren's eyes go wide. Armin freezes. He hears Mikasa barrel towards the stairs.

"Say it, Carla," Eren urges. "_Daddy. _Da-da. _Dad._"

"D—d—"

"You _got it_!"

"_D—d'achoo!"_

The world, for a moment, shifts. Mountains echo. Trees topple. Later, Jean will _swear on Marco's grave _that he felt a shift in tectonic plates, all the way from his house down the road.

Eren doesn't realize his eyes have shut until he opens them.

And when he does:

"Da-da!" chirps a tinny, girl-child voice—

—from the mouth of a pink-fleshed, two-meter-tall, round-faced Titan.

Mikasa chooses that moment to come rushing down. "I _can't believe her first word_ wasn't…"

Her eyes widen, her lips pucker into an 'o'.

"…Ma-ma!" Titan-Carla chirps. "Da-da!"

"Oh, boy," Armin supplies.

Eren can't help it, though"

"…How's second place feel?" Eren looks at his wife smugly. "_Ma-ma?"_

Mikasa slaps her forehead with the inside of her palm. "_Not the problem here._"

Eren looks back at his daughter, who is currently chewing on a now loose piece of floor-tile.

"Oh, right."

X

Carla sneezes again, fifteen minutes later. Pots and pans go flying, and they lose part of the kitchen-wall, but when all is said and done, and everyone opens their eyes again, Carla is back to normal.

Giggling.

And Eren can't help it. "My kid is _cute as hell._"

Mikasa sighs, and picks their daughter up. She presses a kiss to Carla's temple.

_"Our kid_, Eren," she reminds him, and Eren relents.

X

Hanji comes barreling through the front door, an hour later, with both a microscope and a microscopic man (Levi) in tow.

"We heard the news!" Hanji's eyes are wide as starlight. "Congrats, kiddies!"

"Huh?" Eren asks, perplexed. "Carla is almost one."

"And a Titan!"

Carla, meanwhile, hobbles towards Levi. And _licks his ankle._

"Jaeger-spawn," he deadpans, stepping away.

"_Angel-fricking-child,_" Eren corrects, and he is about to pick her up.

When she sneezes.

X

They lose part of the roof, this time around.

"No sneezing inside," Mikasa chides her Titan-daughter, taking everything in stride.

X

"What happens when she has a cold?" Armin asks, after they finally get Carla to bed.

"We hide her from Hanji." Eren's voice holds no room for argument. In a moment, he brightens. "We need to build a basement!"

"Not this again," Mikasa groans, having had enough mystery-ridden-Titan-basements to deal with in her whole lifetime.

"_It's a good idea—"_

Eren is cut off by the sound of his daughter's sneeze.

"Your turn." Mikasa smirks. "Make sure she doesn't break anything."

"I—"

"No shouting."

Eren sighs.

"_Whipped._" Armin whispers, and Mikasa beams.


	14. secret life of the teenage titan-slayer

**chapter title**: the secret life of the teenage titan slayer

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa

**prompt**: Eren and Mikasa keep their relationship a secret.

**summary**: Eren and Mikasa try to keep their relationship a secret. Nobody is fooled.

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

"Where do you think you are going." Ymir enunciates each syllable. "_Mi-ka-sa_."

Krista's eyes are river-bright, sparkling as she exclaims: "It's girl's night! You have to stay!"

"Yeah!" Sasha exclaims, through a mouthful of food.

Mikasa smiles gently. "Oh. I was just going to check on Eren. He's—"

"—in need of his lady love?" Ymir interjects, grinning wickedly.

Krista giggles, and Mikasa—irrevocably graceful _Mikasa Ackerman—_sputters. Chokes on her own spit. _"No!"_

"It's okay, Mikasa," Krista says sweetly. "You don't need to hide it from us. We're all friends here."

"There is nothing to hide. Nothing. At all." Mikasa swallows. "Eren is… family."

"Family you'd like to _fu—_"

"_Ymir!" _Krista, scandalized, elbows her in the ribs, and she grins cheekily.

Sasha, through a mouth of potato-chips: "We're onto you."

Mikasa sighs.

X

"I don't get what she sees in you," Levi tells Eren, who promptly chokes on his dinner.

"_What._"

"He's right," Armin agrees. Eren is likely hyperventilating, so he takes the opportunity to grab a piece of meat off his plate. He teases, "I'm also pretty sure she's taller than you, Eren!"

"Why didn't she pick me?" Jean laments.

"Because of your face," Armin says gently, and Jean gives him a _what the hell does that mean _look.

Eren ignores all of this. "What do you mean? Who are you talking about? Who is this 'she' you speak of—"

"What does she see in him?" Levi asks the sky, and Armin and Jean simply nod.

X

"This secret thing isn't working—"

"Shh," Mikasa whispers, working her hands under his shirt. "The door's unlocked. Be quiet."

Between kisses: "They're." Gasp. "Onto." Pull. "_Us._"

"Just—shut up. Ah—!" Eren's teeth sink into the thin, pale-veined skin of her neck, effectively silencing her demands, until—

There is the sound of a creak. Slowly, slowly, they crane their necks towards the door.

_Armin._

"_Holy sh—"_ Eren is mid-swear when Armin's high-pitched shrill interrupts:

"_I saw nothing I swear!" _He slaps a hand over his eyes, considering his two best friends' state of undress. But before he steps away, he grins: "Annie owes me 10 cenz."

The door slams shut before either one of them can speak.

X

"So, I heard you two were up to some _family relations _last night," Ymir croons over breakfast.

Eren and Mikasa simply sink into their chairs and groan.


	15. put your lipstick on

**chapter title**: put your lipstick on

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa

**prompt**: "Mikasa wears makeup. The boys are enchanted. Eren is jealous."

**summary**: Mikasa wears makeup, the boys are enamored, and Eren gets a little jealous. A little.

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

"Goddess," Connie whispers. The uneaten stew in his spoon tapers onto the table in clumps, but he pays it no mind. "She's a _goddess._"

"_Marry me_," Reiner murmurs under his breath, and Bertholdt nods in dumb wonder.

Jean cuts in, _"She's _marrying _me_, idiots." But a dreamlike glaze colors his eyes. "But… wow…."

"Mikasa, you look really pretty today!" Armin chimes, and that is the exact moment that Eren slams his fist into the table.

She stops speaking—she is mid-scolding Sasha over taking her bread-biscuit _again—_when she turns to the boys. She gives Eren a worried look, before smiling at Armin.

"Thank you," She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Her cheeks are flushed. "Krista—she let me use some of her mascara this morning."

"A goddess blessing a goddess," Reiner sings, and Jean sends him a look of agreement.

Eren, however, snarls, before standing up. "It's just eye-goop…" he mutters under his breath.

As he trails off, Mikasa catches him by the elbow, looking at him with her lash-laced eyes and _shit, _he thinks. _Shit. _

She looks beautiful. But then again, she _always does. _

But he can't just _say _that. And, ugh—he eyes the group of boys at the table. Idiots. Mooning over her _now _that she has some face-paint on. _Idiots._

"Are you okay?" she murmurs.

He grunts in affirmative, before stomping off.

X

"Did I do something wrong?" Mikasa asks, and Armin just shakes his head gently.

"Eren's just an idiot," he comforts, with a small, _knowing_ smile.

X

She washes off her face right after breakfast. The mascara is dark and runs down her face like inky rivers but it made Eren mad and she didn't want to make him _mad, _she just wanted to look _pretty. _And Krista said it brought out her eyes—

She runs straight into a hard, wiry body, and her gaze catch a glimpse of green: _Eren._

"I—uh, sorry, Mikasa," he mutters, before his eyes trail towards her face. They widen at the sight of the mascara-streaks, and then he sputters, "A-are you okay? Were you crying?"

He remembers what his mom's face would look like after she had a good cry with her weird makeup stuff on.

Mikasa's face heats. "No, I—I was just washing my face off."

Eren doesn't think before he blurts: "But you looked pretty."

She stares at her feet, and she hears his breathy yelp as he realizes his words. She trails her fingers along the red of her scarf. "I—um. But I thought you were mad."

Eren, at that, sighs. She skims her gaze upwards, and meets his. He's _blushing _of all things.

"I wasn't—I—Mikasa." He looks flustered. "I'm sorry. I wasn't mad. I was just being an idiot."

"An idiot." She recalls Armin's words.

"I," he says, voice going very, very quiet. _I was jealous, _he wants to say, but of course he won't. He has _pride. _"I was just being stupid."

Before either of them realizes it, he raises a thumb to the charcoal-marks on her cheeks, and smudges the trails away. "Stupid," he repeats, and Mikasa closes her eyes.


	16. a bird's eye view

**chapter title**: a bird's eye view

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa / one-sided eren ო annie if you squint.

**prompt**: "Eren/Mikasa/Annie oneshot" This is more like EreMika from Annie's POV ;^;

**summary**: Eren and Mikasa's relationship, from Annie Leonhart's point of view.

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

Annie doesn't get it, really. Most of the squad is entranced by it—whatever _it _is, because no one can really explain or put a name to the transcendent almost-limbo that the pair of them always fall into. Eren and Mikasa. Mikasa and Eren. ErenAndMikasa—wherever one goes, the other is bound to follow, and she just can't wrap her mind around it, can't bring herself to think, _oh, that makes perfect sense._

Because if anything, they don't make any sense at all. Mikasa is edges where Eren is pliable, breakable everywhere except his eyes, his words.

Maybe his smile.

She has hit him where Mikasa has held him and while Annie likes to think she is above the brittle stupidity of people, the glassy, iridescent bullshit that people let permeate their lives, it still, sometimes, makes her wonder.

She isn't naïve, isn't painted green enough to believe: _oh, they belong together. They belong to each other. _Because people don't _fucking _belong to other people, don't necessarily belong _with _them, either. People are people are people are skin and bone and loneliness—not a wistful, yearning sort of solitude, but the truth of it, the inevitability. People come and go from this world with nothing but their souls and _that _is fate, that is destiny; it is not red strings or soulmates or love, but the irrevocable end-point of being _alone._

Which is why she doesn't understand it. Which is why she doesn't understand the way Mikasa Ackerman, a girl carved of diamond and concrete, goes soft around a boy with dreams so big that don't quite fit into the green of his eyes. Why a boy whose greatest talent is falling flat on his face is so intent on keeping her and this world safe. Why he's tied a scarf around her neck and called it fate and why they bend to eachother like water—

—and why _the hell _it pisses her off, that a boy she could toss over her shoulder like deadweight could make her feel this way, could make her stare up at their twin, retreating backs with something like longing, something that she sure as hell never bargained for. Why the _hell _it is that he is the one on the ground during all their sparring-matches and she is the one who feels like she's lost, lost something vital that she's never really cared to know.

"You're going easy on me," he tells her, today, spitting up dirt and grass as he regains his balance, spreads his weight onto the bones of his feet.

Her eyes are bored as she says, with an undetectable tremor in her voice:

"If I hurt you, Mikasa might get angry."

Baiting, she thinks. _Pathetic, _she thinks.

He blinks up at her, raising his fists. Naïve. Stupid, stupid boy. "What does she have to do with this?"

_Everything, _is what Annie doesn't say. There is a tiny, human taste of the word in her throat, but she swallows, and gives him a half-lipped smile, before she charges forward.


	17. what's in a name

**chapter title**: what's in a name

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa.

**prompt**: "Eremika, names"

**summary**: Their bond has no name.

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

He doesn't always know what to call her, if he's being honest, beyond the obvious. Because, above it all, she is _Mikasa, _always is, always will be—but, still. In trying to grasp their relationship into a bottle of a word, the meaning blurs and everything seeps beyond the lines of the concrete of a name.

She's family, he supposes—_family, _in a way that the bond is something all-encompassing, something unshaken. They've shared a room, shared nightmares—shared the stain of blood on their hands and the memory of his mother's eyes, sad and strong, moments before her end. They've shared all of this, but _sister, _the shape of it, puts too much weight on the blood that isn't there, puts too much shame in the way he's noticed the sway of her hip and the gloss of her hair.

But she isn't his _friend_. No matter how he looks at it, she _isn't. _With the word _friend, _he always sees Armin's face, and sometimes Connie, or even _Jean. _Sasha. Annie. _Reiner. _But never Mikasa; for whatever reason, she doesn't bend with the shade of the word, the idea of it.

She is simply _Mikasa, _he decides; the girl who's dug rivers under his skin and made her home in his bones. The girl who sometimes (when they aren't bickering, when they aren't at each other's throats, arguing over life and death and loss, the ever-presence of it, the way it's stuck to them like a second soul) makes him wonder what it might be like to hold her. The girl who makes the word _lover _quiver and die in its triviality, the girl he can't quite paint the color of his love for, the girl whose simple, fairy-touch can leave him content in his unknowing, his lack of an explanation, so long as she stays close.


	18. coffee-shop lovers

**chapter title**: coffee-shop lovers

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa.

**prompt**: "Eren and Mikasa reunited at a coffeeshop AU" - from my tumblr

**summary**: The strangest things can happen in a coffee-shop. AU, Reincarnation.

**notes: **as you can see, I raised the number of chapters again! haha i have gotten so many prompts on tumblr, so i'll need more than 30 to post them all! thanks so much for all your lovely reviews, they literally make my day!

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

Mikasa drinks her coffee black. _Always. _It isn't so much that she likes the flavor, but it's the principle of the thing; she drinks coffee to wake up, not for her daily sugar-fix, like Sasha or Krista.

But, for whatever reason, when she steps in front of the register, she forgets this. Her eyes instantly trail to the boy behind the counter, and her gaze settles. Her eyes blur, and everything goes suddenly dreamlike, and she sees: green—bright and amber-laced. Dark hair and lashes. Lanky-boned arms and a long neck and a sharp jaw. He isn't tall, but he still cranes his neck down to look at her, and it is only then when she realizes she is staring. She quickly looks away, catching sight of his nametag—_Eren—_before quickly glancing up at the menu-board and reading off the first thing she sees:

"Peppermint mocha," she blurts. Recognizing the creak in her voice, she adds. "A small. Please."

He blinks down at her, and his eyelashes catch into each-other, like glossy tumbleweeds. Mikasa wonders if he thinks she's weird, or probably crazy—because she must be, if out of nowhere, at seven-thirty in the morning, in some random, down-town coffee-shop, she finds herself brimming with a sudden, pulsing urgency, a wracking, heady moment of déjà vu, as she looks at this boy, this boy she's _never _seen in her life, a boy who's making her feel as if her thoughts and eyes and bones are heavy with dream-laden sleep.

He stares back at her for a moment too long. His eyes carry whatever emotion she feels swimming through her veins, and he lets out a hoarse: "Coming right up," after his hand brushes hers when she collects her change.

Mikasa jolts awake, from _whatever _just happened when she feels something hard brush against her, and then, _cold. _Ice-cold, bone-cold: a red-lipped face, framed with blonde, snarling _"Watch where you're going, you made me spill my drink!"_

Mikasa runs a hand through her now-sticky hair, the spiced scent of chai and vanilla lingering in her senses, the words of an apology shaping in her teeth when _he _comes.

"I'll clean this up," Eren says, loudly. "And I'll get you a new drink. Just wait a minute."

She closes her eyes, and feels her mind go soft, pliable with memories: a hand leading her through a green field, a warm smile, and red. When Mikasa opens them again, the coffee-shop floors are clean and Eren is carrying two, steaming cups; he hands one to the once-angry blonde—she now is tripping over herself and blushing—and the other to Mikasa. Instinctively, she takes a sip, and the familiar, bitter taste of black coffee warms her throat.

Her eyes widen, and she turns to him, "How—"

"Call it instinct," he says, and she watches him take a strand of her tea-laden hair in his hand. His nose wrinkles, and she feels her heart in her throat. _What is going on, _she wants to ask, but she is silent until he says, "One second."

Mikasa feels her world go lopsided; she doesn't remember the moment he leaves, but when he is back, his hands are spilling with red, and then he is wrapping something warm around her neck.

He's blushing, "It's cold out. You're all wet; you might freeze."

She tugs at the ends of the scarf, and it feels oddly familiar. "I don't even know you," she finally says. "What…what is this?"

He laughs. "A scarf, idiot," he tells her, bluntly. She narrows her eyes, and his hand moves to her hair, again, like all of this is _normal. _His eyes go somber. "What else would it be, Mikasa?"

At the sound of her name, she stills, and so does he. His eyes widen, rimmed with shock, and she can see the questions spilling out of them when he turns to look at her.

"Eren," she says, instinctively, and it's like a light goes on inside of her, a sudden, crackling glow—and in a moment, she's clutching at his hands, and he's moving in closer, his pulse pressed into the skin and bone of her grasp, and _that_ is when they both know.


	19. driving miss daisy

**chapter title**: driving miss daisy

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa.

**prompt**: "eremika - one of them teaches the other how to drive" - from my tumblr

**summary**: Eren tries teaching Mikasa how to drive. Key word: tries.

**notes: **hahaha read until the end. PLOT TWIST PLOT TWIST.

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

"_Brake!" _Eren yells, holding onto either side of his seat. "Brake, brake, _holy shit, _Mikasa, _brake_!"

"Don't _shout,_" she says, before slamming on the pedal. The car almost comes to a complete stop. In the _middle of the road._

"I _will_, if it means it'll save out freaking _lives_!" he tells her, before sighing. Cars whiz past, all honking—some close enough to knick off the side-mirror. "Just… pull over for now."

Mikasa, however, crosses her arms. "No."

"_Both hands on the wheel_!" he bellows, and she obliges to that, at least, thank _god. _"Mikasa. Seriously, I know you're amazing at literally _everything, _but maybe this just isn't your thing. Maybe I'm not the one who should be helping you with—"

"No."

He ignores her. "—driving. Y'know, _Levi _is really good at this sort of thing, I mean, he used to be a driving instructor, and, you know, bus passes aren't too expensive these days—"

"No. _Hell no_." Mikasa doesn't _quit_. Eren knows this, because the look in his eyes tells her that he anticipates her pressing her heel onto the gas before they _zoom _forward.

But, still. Eren, for a moment, forgets how to breathe. And then, "_Slow down! _Holy crap, Mikasa, slow down, that's a _bus!_"

"Stop _shouting, _Eren."

"I will—I, ugh." Eren rakes a hand through his hair, before slowly bringing his palm to rest over hers. They're at a red light, and he wonders, absently, if it'll be his last. He leans in close, close enough to skim the slope of her jaw with his breath. "Let me drive. Please. I'll teach you somewhere else."

For a moment, her cheeks go as red as her scarf. There is a contemplative look in the starlight between her lashes.

And then the light turns green.

"Don't yell, this time," she whispers, beaming mischievously, before she slams on the gas once more.

X

When she makes it home that night, her mother sighs good-naturedly. "Another driving-date with Eren?"

Mikasa blushes. "It's not a date."

"How long are you going to keep this up?" Her mother laughs. "You've had your license for almost a year now."

Mikasa lets out an airy, light giggle. "But Eren doesn't know that."

X

Little does she know, Eren _does._

X

They set another driving-hour for the next day.


	20. two weeks

**chapter title**: two weeks

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa.

**prompt**: "eremika - mikasa's parents don't die the day they meet"

**summary**: In which Mikasa's parents don't die the day Eren comes to visit, and a friendship is formed. AU.

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

The boy who steps through the door can't be much older than her. But he seems small—curled into himself, somehow—and there is a volatility in the bones of his steps that makes her wonder.

"Dr. Jaeger," her father calls, grinning. "Good to see you. Is this Eren?"

'Eren' looks away, scowling.

The doctor—tall, almost frighteningly so—gives a half-smile. "Sorry. He's a moody one."

Her mother giggles. "Oh, I'm sure he and Mikasa will get along _wonderfully._" And with that, she playfully shoves her daughter towards the boy, and beams. "Play outside, you two!"

They obey: Eren unblinking, and Mikasa suddenly self-conscious as she rushes out to the yard.

X

"This is our garden," she says, in her childlike soprano. "We grow all kinds of things. Vegetables. Flowers. Fruits—"

Eren looks unimpressed. "Oh," he says, eyeing his feet.

Mikasa bristles, but she's been raised with _manners, _unlike _someone. _"Um. Would you like to see the river? It's just down there."

"Sure," Eren says, sounding less than excited. She turns on her heel, not looking back at him as she trudges towards the water a few meters off.

Ignoring him, she slips out of her sandals as she walks, girl-soft giggles bursting from her throat as the warm earth skims over her skin. Once the water comes into view, she dips her bare feet into the clearness of it, kicking absently as she leans back.

To her surprise, she hears a _thud _and then Eren is sitting beside her. He doesn't take off his shoes, but he dips his hand into the water. There is a bright, very young gleam in his eyes as he splashes his palms in wonder, cupping the river-water as if it is something precious and spirit-like.

"You know," he says, still focusing on the river. "There is this thing called _the ocean, _outside of the walls. More water than a hundred rivers. Deeper than a hundred rivers, too."

Mikasa turns to him, eyes wide. "You're lying."

"Nope." His skin is etched red, like the scarf on his neck. He curves away from the water, now, and stares up at the sky, silent.

"You don't say much, do you?" she asks, and he hums in response. Suddenly feeling bold, she asks, "Wanna see the butterflies? There's a family of them back in the garden."

"Sure," he says, again, and this time, she can tell he means it.

X

They spend the day outside, two children, basking in the vastness that is still ever-present, even behind the walls.

"This is fun," Mikasa says, honest, blunt, as she picks flowers for a crown.

"Yeah," Eren says back, red, again. "It is."

X

"I like your scarf," Mikasa tells him. He is only lit by the firefly glow of the night, and the lantern Doctor Jaeger is preparing for their journey back. "It looks warm."

"…You can have it," he tells her, suddenly, and before she can protest, he's unwrapped it from his neck and placed it on her own.

Her mother comes and ruffles her hair, and Doctor Jaeger says, "We'll be back in two weeks, for a follow-up."

"Two weeks," Mikasa murmurs, smiling at Eren.

"Two weeks," he repeats, and it's a promise.


	21. brave new world

**chapter title**: brave new world

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa.

**prompt**: "eren and mikasa travel the world. all of their friends are dead. and they find comfort with each other" - PROMPT FROM TUMBLR. NOT ME. I AM NOT SATAN LIKE THIS PROMPTER.

**summary**: The Titans have fallen. Humanity is safe. But Eren and Mikasa have no one but each other left. Character death, AU.

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

_I love you, _is what she doesn't tell him. Sometimes, and only sometimes, she wonders if, after everything, he still does not know. If he can't—won't— tread the waters of her eyes, taste the plea of her lips, or lean into the cold, white-knuckled grasp she's tried to keep on him, the tug-of-war she's been playing with the soul of him for the years since the Titans' fall.

Eren has ghosts in his eyes, ghosts with Armin's voice and Armin's eyes and Armin's smile. Ghosts with Jean's hands and Levi's rasp and Krista's bell-chime laughter. With Ymir's skin-stars and Connie's bones and Sasha's hunger—and, Petra. And Hannes. Auruo. Annie. Those she never met, those she thought she knew, but didn't. And then his mother, his mother's tear-clogged voice, her tear-water blessing before her life was stolen. His mother, and the father who had long since been gone.

Mikasa has ghosts—many of her ghosts are the same— but she does not break for them. She remembers her mother. Her father.

Mikasa has learned to live with the weight of them.

But Eren has long since been broken.

She skims her hands over the scar-slate of his palms: _A reminder, _he calls them, bitterly, _of what I had to become._

She slips her palm into his. And he lets her.

_I love you, _she doesn't say. But she leans in close. And for a moment, in the open, unwalled world around them—with beginnings murmuring from the Titan's end—they are star-specks in the atmosphere, insignificant and new to this shade, this breadth of the earth.

They are loss and love and skin and bones and wonder, wonder as she kisses the curve of his jaw, the corner of his mouth. _Wonder_— as he pulls her in by the teeth, by the waist, with a longing she never knew could make her heart beam and ache at once. Wonder, as they pull back and stare at the hollowness of the world around them, void of both friends and foes. Wonder, as they continue to hold each other by the pulses of their wrists, as they force themselves forward, towards what they do not know—_onward_—in this time, this place, where they only have each other.


	22. practice makes perfect

**chapter title**: practice makes perfect

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa, armin friendship.

**prompt**: "eren tries to talk out his feelings for mikasa with armin"

**summary**: Eren practices his confession to Mikasa with Armin. There are mixed results.

**notes: **added a little bit to the end, about mikasa's scarf! thanks for the ideas, **misstampede **& **urgandma12**

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

"Armin, this is stupid as _shi_—"

"_Language._"

"_Shit. _Stupid as _shit. _I can swear if I want."

"You're in the presence of a _lady._"

"For the five-_hundredth _time, you are not _Mikasa, _and I can't go and _pretend _you are."

"Think of it as a training exercise."

"…You're kidding."

"No, I'm _Mikasa._"

"You're _Armin. _I can't imagine—wait, are you wearing her _scarf_?"

"To make it more authentic."

"…She's gonna kill you."

"Possibly. Because she loves this thing. Because she loves _you._"

"Not funny."

"I'm not trying to be, idiot."

"…Mikasa wouldn't call me an idiot."

"She totally would. She does."

"You mean _you do._ You're her, right? For this… training thing."

"Alright, then. Point taken. So, _say _something."

"…Hnnngg."

"Are you _okay_, Eren? You don't sound so well."

"Shit, you sound just like her—I, ugh. I mean. I'm fine, Mikasa."

"Don't grit your teeth like that."

"I'm not—jeez, do you have to nag?"

"I only do it because…"

"Because you're _crazy. _I mean. Fuck. Armin, I suck a this."

"…It's Mikasa."

"Jesus _Christ. _I mean. I'm sorry, Mikasa, I didn't mean that. I don't feel that way at all. I…"

"Yeah, Eren?"

"I lo—I… I love…"

"You love what, Eren?"

"Dammit, Armin, don't interrupt me."

"…That wasn't me."

"What do you mean—wait…"

Eren turns around, eyes wide, and there stands Mikasa, against the doorframe.

"Eren?" she asks.

"_Nothing_!"

And with that, he bolts from the room, leaving Armin to sigh to himself and Mikasa to blink after him, before asking, _"What's _wrong with him?"

"…You're both _idiots_," is all Armin says, before marching to the door.

"Hey," Mikasa calls out. "Is that my _scarf?_"

_The things I do for you two, _Armin thinks, before he runs faster.


	23. goodbye, my love

**chapter title**: goodbye, my love

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa.

**prompt**: "Continuation of the fic where Mikasa's parents are still alive, and Eren leaves for the Survey Corps"

**summary**: In which the Ackermans are the ones to take Eren in after the fall of Shiganshina. And he still joins the Survey Corps, but this time, Mikasa cannot come with him.

**notes: **continuation of "two weeks"-verse.

**notes2: **in this AU, Mikasa's parents are still alive, so she's a lot more innocent and gentle. She didn't ever have to fight, kill, or lose anything. So sorry if it seems a bit ooc!

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

"I'm joining the Survey Corps," he tells her, voice wispy as candlelight.

Mikasa's face falls. "You… you can't—"

"I have to," he says, firmly, voice hard, eyes shining with a vitality she hadn't seen since her family had taken him in. Since Shiganshina fell, and his mother had been killed and his father had vanished. "Mikasa, I need to do this."

"Why?" her words come out choked, broken, like snappy waterfalls, and she hates it. She feels weak, powerless, as she grapples through an argument. "To throw your life away? Eren, your parents—"

"Are gone," he finishes for her.

She whispers, "—wouldn't want you to live like that."

"I can't," Eren says, slowly, like the words are lodged in his throat. "I can't lose anyone else," he manages. "If I go to the Survey Corps, I can do good. I can protect…" _you, _he does not say, but she knows, she _knows._

"Let me come with you," she says.

His smile is sad, as he speaks in mirror-words. "Mikasa, your parents wouldn't want you to live like that." His hand slopes over the curled, bone-white of her fist. "Stay here, with them. I'll come back."

Her shoulders begin to shake, and her neck remains craned downwards. He looks away, as she hiccups through her weeping: "Who's gonna keep you out of trouble? Y...you need me." _I need you, _she does not say, but _he knows, _too.

"I know I do," he murmurs. "I know you're stronger. I've seen you with those garden-blades."

"Let me—"

"Mikasa," he says again, and she swallows the plea. She slips her hand out from under his, and she notices the way his face dims. She swipes at her eyes with the back of her hands, suddenly embarrassed, and acutely aware of his breath whispering near her neck, beneath the folds of red, the tie of fate, the warmth, the promise, _we'll always be together._

"One thing," she says, leaning towards him. Her hands bunch around the fabric of his shirt. "Don't die."

"I won't," he says, earnestly, but too quickly, too easily— and Mikasa swallows something like a sob before pulling him in.


	24. the metaphorical hands of soup

**chapter title**: the (metaphorical) hands of soup

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa.

**prompt**: "Mikasa and Eren suck at cooking"

**summary**: They have slain Titans. They saved the world. They can do anything. Except cook.

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

Mikasa nudges the spoon towards him. "Try it."

He eyes it with distaste, before turning away. "No!"

A glossy frown angles her lips, and her eyes go soft when she asks, "Please? For me? I worked on this for hours."

Eren sighs, at this, raking a hand through his hair. "Mikasa, I don't know how many times we need to go over this. You and I…" He clears his throat, "can't cook for _shit_."

"_Eren," _she says, warningly. But really, she can't help but agree. They've been surviving on takeout and Armin's weekly donations of his cooking for the greater part of the past two years. "It's just soup. How bad can it be?"

"_Bad,_" Eren presses. "Like, _I-Didn't-Get-Killed-By-The-Titans-But-May-Meet-My- Doom-By-The-Hand-Of-This-Stew._"

"Stew doesn't have hands," is all Mikasa can think to say.

Eren groans. "Let's just wait until Armin comes over. I heard he made _pies, _too—" As Mikasa looks dejectedly at the pot, Eren moves towards her, running his palm along the curve of her arm. "Listen, it's just _cooking. _And both of us are bad at it. It's no big deal—"

"I'm gonna try it," she declares, and before Eren can protest—knock the poisonous soup out of her hand, _whatever_—she puts the spoon in her mouth and _swallows._

Silence.

Eren waits for her eyes to roll back and for her skin to go pale and for his fiancée to drop dead at any minute—

Instead, she takes the spoon, ladles it back into the pot, and takes some more.

Eren's eyes widen. She's gone _mad. _Suicidal. "Mikasa—"

She's _beaming. _"It's _good!" _Her voice is laced with shock. "It's _good, _Eren!"

He wonders if this is some tactic to get him to Suffer By The (Metaphorical) Hands of Stew, as well. But. She looks so honest, and now she's pouring it into a _bowl_ for herself, and Eren can't down his curiosity; he tries it, too.

His eyes go round, and he instinctively dips his spoon back in for another spoonful. "It's… _good_."

"I know!" she exclaims. "I told you."

"How?" he asks, around a mouthful of soup.

"I…" she says, thinking. "I don't know."

But Eren doesn't care. He's grinning. "We aren't gonna starve tonight! _Hell yeah, _Mikasa, you're the best!"

He leans in to peck her on the lips, and after all this time, she still feels her cheeks go red.

"You taste like soup," she tells him, after he pulls back.

"You say it like it's a bad thing," he says smugly, before leaning in again.


	25. the ties that bind

**chapter title**: the ties that bind

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa. armin friendship. armin/?

**prompt**: "red thread of fate. Bonus points if you can include Armin."

**summary**: "It'll lead you two back together, someday." Eren, Mikasa, and fate.

**notes: **who do YOU think armin is connected to! guess in a review!

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

When Mikasa opens her eyes, she sees: gold, blue—sky, sun. River-water. She blinks, and hears it before she sees him: a chime of laughter, and then everything comes into focus.

Tears fill her eyes. It has been over a year since she's seen him.

"Armin," she whispers, moving towards him.

He wraps his arms around her in a hug, but his eyes are sad. "You, too, Mikasa?"

She pulls back, looking down at herself. Gone is her uniform, her war-gear, her constellation of battle-scars. The dress she wears is something out of her fairy-tale childhood: pale and gossamer. She touches her neck, and sighs, the familiar, soft folds of red warming her fingers.

"As much as I wanted to be," she murmurs. "I guess I wasn't invincible."

He smiles sympathetically, leaning against a birch-white tree. Mikasa runs her hand along the bright, gleaming grasses, and asks, "Where is everyone else? Where are we?"

He says, "They all went ahead. We're still waiting, I suppose."

"For what?" she asks, and Armin's eyes hone in on her scarf, and she shivers. "Oh. Oh, Armin. I'm sorry you've been… here for so long."

Armin laughs. "It wasn't so bad. It's peaceful here. And I knew you two had each other."

Mikasa manages to half-smile, instinctively moving a hand to touch her scarf, again. She notices, only now, the end-strands spilling from the knot around her neck, trailing to the ground, and beyond, beyond, beyond, backwards from where she came—

Armin holds up a hand, a red thread laced around his pinky, the ruby-length of it pulling him in the opposite direction opposite of hers. "We all have one." He beams. "But some were just more obvious than others."

"Eren," she says, suddenly, urgently, throat heavy with his name. "I—is… am I…"

"It'll lead you two back together, someday. Somehow," Armin tells her, smiling. He tugs at his own thread, and she sees him fall backwards. He laughs. "I guess I've been here for too long."

"Who—" Mikasa asks, staring at the winding red around his hand.

"I don't know," he says, honestly, and then he begins to stand. He beams. "I guess I'll be finding out, though."

"What—"

There is a pull on her neck, and she stumbles, right when Armin says, "See you Mikasa."

And then he is gone.

X

Mikasa's eyes shoot open, and she feels the bitter, bitter taste of blood and bile in her throat. She coughs, falling to her side, and that is when she feels arms wrap around her in a hard, tear-wet embrace.

"Mikasa," Eren says, voice broken. "Mikasa, Mikasa, Mikasa…"

She blinks wearily—he's craned back: one hand is tracing over the plane of her face, the other is clutching desperately at the red of her scarf. The knot at her neck is half undone, and his hold is white-knuckled, desperate—_pulling_.

And then she understands.

"I'm back," she tells him, hoarsely. "You… brought be back."

His face breaks, as he brings her closer. "I _always_ will," he says, unwavering, and Mikasa, more than anything, believes him.


	26. miss the girl

**chapter title**: miss the girl

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa.

**prompt**: "what if eren doesn't save mikasa in time from those kidnappers and even if he doesn't know her he feels so guilty and asks his dad what mikasa was like and when he goes to sleep he dreams what if he did save her, what would she be like and her memory basically lives on in his dreams" - from tumblr.

**summary**: "I couldn't save her, I couldn't save her, I couldn't save her." Eren doesn't find Mikasa's kidnappers in time, AU.

**notes: **angst. i am sorry. but satan prompted this. i am just the messenger.

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

The door doesn't open.

Gritting his teeth, Eren slams his fist against the wooden frame again, and again. He feels something splinter into the veined, back of his palm, but he ignores it. His grip on the dagger behind his back tightens in rage as he knocks: he _knows _they are in there.

He had been wandering the hillside when he saw them: two men, and a small, sleep-heavy form. A _girl. _

And that is all he needed to know. He had lost them somewhere in the tree-laden forest, but had heard voices coming from nearby.

They have to be in this house. _They have to be._

Afresh with rage—_disgust—_he realizes, utter loathing at disgust, at these men, willing to plunder innocent people, humans who are so ready to harm other humans with a threat as great as the Titans looming. Humans ready to harm any innocent people _period. _

Eren slams his fist into the door once more—and, to his shock, it creaks open.

Swallowing—_I'll kill them, _he decides, _I'll kill them if they hurt her_—he leans forward, peering inside, the hilt of the dagger digging into the inside of his palm.

Instantly, he swings the door open, spearing the dagger in front of him, ready to slay any threat, ready to find her—_Mikasa, _her father had said, _her name is Mikasa—_and save her from whatever cruel fate this world had in store for her. He sees _red, _for a moment, and only that—

And then, nothing at all.

He blinks, suddenly still.

The room is empty.

He growls, and says, through his teeth, "Is anybody here?"

No answer. There is the distinct smell of lamp-oil, and Eren spots twines of rope discarded in the corner of the room.

And.

_Oh. _Eren suddenly turns sheet-white. _Oh, oh, God._

A girl's shoe.

His stomach sinks. He feels something inside of him coil and snap, as he scales the entire cottage in a desperate, breathless rush. He feels his throat go raw and his lungs go hollow as he screams into the maze that is the forest, as he sprints until his legs give in from underneath. He feels his eyes go impossibly hot and wet when he finds his father, when the only words he can manage are, "_I couldn't save her, I couldn't save her, I couldn't save her in time_."

X

Eren doesn't eat for three days.

Armin tries to cheer him up, bringing story-books and maps and tales of spirit-waters and princesses and knights in shining armor.

"It doesn't work that way," Eren mumbles, eyeing the dagger at his bedside. His mother doesn't like it, but his father has convinced her that it is something he needs. Eren doesn't tell them that he can't hold it straight, anymore, that his bones rattle at the sight of it, that his grip goes dead and slack whenever he tries to pick it up. That he imagines men with demon-eyes, imagines blood running from those eyes like tear-water, imagines everything that a boy of nine should never have to see. "In real life, it doesn't work that way."

"A lot of things don't work, in this life," Armin says gently, and Eren almost believes he understands.

X

It's been two weeks since _That Night _when Eren finally asks his father, in his ragged, boy-soprano: "…What was she like?"

He does not ask who, does not tilt his head in questioning. Instead, he says, "A gentle girl. Black-bird hair, a wide smile." His father looks away. "A kind girl. Very, very kind. Her father said she…had rain-cloud eyes. She was like rain. Mikasa."

_Like rain, _Eren thinks, hours after he's left his father's study. _Like rain, _he thinks, as the sky outside goes dark.

X

In his dreams, they play garden-tag and bake bread with his mother. They carry firewood on their backs like toy-soldiers and listen in wonder to Armin's fairytales. In his dreams her mother and father are still alive and he visits her hill-top home every day. They catch butterflies with their hands and run through river-water and drink rain like it is dream-water and it _is, _all of it _is—_gossamer and watercolor and thin as a soul, wispy enough to disappear with the blink of an eye, with the sight of the dagger of his bedside, and the full, creeping moon peering down, just like that night, the night he lost her. The night she was stolen, like firefly-starlight, like comet-wishes.

"Mikasa," he repeats, to himself. "Mikasa," he says, again, and again. Like an apology. Like a prayer.

X

(And sometimes Mikasa's sleep is painted green, and sometimes—long after she is broken, long after she pieces herself together into something of starry concrete—she wonders over the boy—the green-eyed sprite-child, from the forest. The boy who followed, the boy with the knife, the boy with those promise-eyes, the hope-chase, the boy who couldn't reach her in this life, but still saves her in her dreams.)


	27. once upon a time

**chapter title**: once upon a time

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa. armin friendship.

**prompt**: "when armin meets mikasa, he has a bit of a crush on her. but when eren gets jealous and armin sees how they are together, he begins to ship eremika" - from my tumblr

**summary**: Even at age nine, Armin is an expert matchmaker.

**notes: **A HAPPY STORY OMG YAYYY. featuring matchmaker!armin, young!mikasa, and illiterate!eren.

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

When Armin first meets her, his first thought is that her eyes look like starlight.

She smiles softly, as Eren says, oblivious, "Mikasa, Armin. Armin, Mikasa."

He holds out his clammy hand—his free hand, actually, because his other is clutching at one of his favorite books, about a fair-maiden and her prince—and she tilts her head for a moment in thought, before reaching out and shaking it.

Mikasa's constellation eyes linger on his book, and he asks, excited, a blush coating his cheeks, his every word: "Wanna read with me?"

She nods, beaming, and Armin doesn't catch Eren's scowl.

X

"…and they live happily ever after."

Mikasa sighs, happily. "That's so nice."

Eren, on the other hand, is pouting. "It's _stupid. _They fell in love after _what_—two minutes? How stupid is _that._"

"It's love at first sight," Armin says gently, smiling wryly at his best friend.

"It's stupid at first _stupid_," Eren presses, snarling, as he picks himself up. "C'mon, Mikasa, let's _go_ now, we're gonna be late for dinner."

He pulls her up by the bend of her wrist, and she pleads, "Can we just read one more story?"

Eren's scowl softens, somewhat, and his grip on her arm slips to her hand. "Fine, just one."

Armin blinks, once, twice. He eyes their twined hands, and a knowing, excited, smile paints his face. _Oh, I get it now._

X

Armin catches the way they steal glances at each other. They're _kids, _but still. Armin is a romantic at heart, and he takes it upon himself as Eren and Mikasa's Best Friend to help out with their idiocy.

"Once upon a time." Armin eyes the book, before looking up. "There was a young girl, named Mika, who was saved, but a handsome, young man named Eden."

Mikasa gives him a questioning look. Her cheeks are tinted pink. "Those are… odd names."

"Yeah, lemme see that," Eren snaps, and as his eyes gloss over the page, Armin is suddenly glad that Eren never listened to him when he tried to teach him how to read. "Oh. Um. I guess those are the names. Yeah."

Armin smiles down at the book-page—his grandfather's favorite recipe for sweet-bread, and laughs silently to himself.

Armin speaks on, "…and they were very, very much in love…"


	28. run, run, run as fast as you can

**chapter title**: (run run run) as fast as you can

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa.

**prompt**: "eren carrying his kid around in his titan form in like a big titan daddy way ok bye /v\"

**summary**: "C'mon, Daddy. _Jaeger-power!_" Eren gives his daughter a piggyback ride. In his Titan form, of course.

**notes: **i just wanted to thank each and every one of you for reading, reviewing, and favoriting this. it means the world to me that you all enjoy this little collection!

**notes2: **do you ship Armin/Annie? Do you just really like Armin and/or Annie? Then it would really mean the world to me if you checked out my first AruAnnie piece, _the crystal queen. _It's a little oneshot ficlet, and if people enjoy it, I might do a mini drabble collection for those two blonde dorks, too! ^^

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

Mikasa stares down at the empty sauce-bowl, unblinking. Her gaze shifts to the basket of ruby-pale, garden-tomatoes—courtesy of Armin—blaring from the kitchen table.

"Tomato sauce," she says, aloud. She picks up the neat, swan-curve recipe, again, written by Armin—she mentally blesses him for preventing her and Eren from dying of starvation for the past few years. But today, Mikasa is _determined. _She is going to make this dish if it _kills her_. "I can _do _this."

That is when she hears the crash.

With her soldier's reflexes, she darts to the nearest window, peers out, and sees: feet. Feet half of the size of their modest cottage, feet that are currently _crushing _several once fruit-laden trees.

Mikasa's eye twitches as dips her head outside. She sees Carla giggling from atop Eren's Titan-head, fifteen meters up.

"Faster, Daddy, _faster_!" she shrills, and Eren obliges with a mirth-like roar, taking earth-shattering steps across the open-green of their yard.

Mikasa groans, resigned, before climbing up the roof. She wonders absently if Eren had planned on Titan-shifting-piggyback-rides when he _demanded _they live near at least one acre of open land. She wonders, again, if her husband has _any sense at all. _Especially regarding _child safety _in the presence of a _Titan_.

"Put Carla _down, _Eren," Mikasa calls from her spot on the roof. "It's not safe!"

Carla is shrieking, "No, this is _fun_!" as she bunches her tiny, white fists into the field of Eren's hair. And Eren only tilts his head in mock-confusion, before scampering off in another circle.

"Eren, I know you heard me," Mikasa says warningly. She eyes Carla—she seems perfectly safe. But. Mikasa can't just _back down _now. "Fine. I'll get out my old maneuver gear and pry you out, myse—_eek_!"

Eren picks her up with his thumb and index finger, and for a moment, she is flying, until he places her up on his head, right next to Carla.

"It's _so _fun, Mommy!" Carla laughs, as Eren ruffles Mikasa's hair teasingly with his pinky finger. "We're gonna go _super fast_!"

"Super fast," Mikasa repeats, unable to wipe away the smile gracing her lips.

"_Super-duper-fast_!" Carla beams, before bellowing, "C'mon, Daddy. _Jaeger-power!_"

At this, Mikasa's laugh twinkles aloud, and she thinks, _my family, _as she nestles into the crown of Eren's head, her hand on her daughter's, as they take off, again.


	29. apples and saltwater

**chapter title**: apples and saltwater

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa.

**prompt**: "kid!eren and kid!mikasa and a moment"

**summary**: As a child, she is fragile. As a child, he will do anything to keep her from breaking again.

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

When Carla Jaeger places the plate of apple-cake in front of her, Mikasa begins to cry.

It's less desperate than it is gentle; it is a barely-there, jerk of her tiny, girl-shoulders, and then silent, soundless shape of her weeping.

Eren's eyes go round with worry and his mother is instantly beside them, asking, "Mikasa, are you alright? What is it, sweetie?" over and over again.

Mikasa, in turn, holds up one hand; the other reaches for a fork, which she presses into the dessert. "It's… it's nothing. I just had something in my eye. I'm sorry."

Carla, unconvinced, rubs a small, soothing circle along her back, before murmuring, "Are you sure?"

Mikasa nods, and, as if to prove her point, she takes an enormous bite of the cake. "Yes. It's delicious. Thank you."

She keeps her gaze set on Mikasa, even when she finally relents and leaves the room. Eren watches her as she eats silently, taking large, graceless bites. Her lips are coated with crumbs and her eyelashes are bloated with unfallen tears, and she just keeps eating and eating even though everything tastes like saltwater and bitter swallows of memory. She eats until the plate is empty, and she scrapes her fork against the porcelain-white.

"Mikasa…" Eren begins, and then she falters.

"M-my," she hiccups. "My mom used to make this. It was h-her favorite. Her favorite thing to make…"

Her words dip into a sob, and before her face falls into her open palms, from her periphery, she catches Eren's hand reaching out, and then retracting, as if in hesitation, and she does not know if she has ever felt as equally grateful and disappointed as she does now.

She lets out tiny, wet whimpers as she cries, and doesn't look up until she hears the sound of a plate scraping on the table-top.

Head heavy, she cranes her neck upwards, tears in her eyes, her throat, as she sees Eren's piece of cake sitting before her.

"Have it," he says, gentle, Armin-gentle, so unlike himself that Mikasa uses all of her strength to stop herself from crying again.

She tentatively pokes her fork into the new piece; under the table, Eren's palm tangles with her other hand by the fingers, and they stay like that—even long after she finishes.


	30. part one: a face of moonlight

**chapter title**: part one: a face of moonlight

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa. but not too shippy with this one.

**prompt**: "I would love to see an AU where Eren rescued little Mikasa when he was 15/16. Extra plus if she's very clingy with him and he treats her like an angel. ^^"

**summary**: Eren saves Mikasa from her captors when he is sixteen years old. A different angle at their bond. AU.

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

There are stars of pain in the backs of her eyes; when she tries to open them, she dimly registers the knot of a bruise just above her lashes and the leaden, bleary feel of her bones. Weakly, she moves her hands; the twine of rope digs into the fragile skin, and she bites her lips to keep from crying out.

She lets her half-gaze trail after the shapeless silhouettes, and in her spurts of wakefulness, she catches their throaty, shadow-voices: _You shouldn't have killed the mother, now we only have the girl—_

_Mother. _Her mother would know what to do, now. She would tuck the black-bird waves of Mikasa's hair behind her ear and whisper her a fairy-tale story until her eyes went light with dreams. She twists her wrists and wonders if her mother ever taught her how to pray—but when Mikasa lets her eyes close again, all she can see is red. Her parents' crumpled forms, painted scarlet, her mother-crimson, her father-ruby, like broken, boneless dolls—

There is the sound of a gasp, and then a thud, and Mikasa pries her eyes open again, her temple throbbing constellations as she squints in the inky darkness. Lit by the dull moonlight, she catches a new form: taller, lankier than the others.

_Another thud. _A shriek of: "You _son of a—_" and then nothing, before the simple hiss of a word: _"Die_."

There is a sudden warmth at her side and in a split-moment her wrists are unbound.

"Are you alright?" comes a gentle voice, and, woodenly, Mikasa sits up, before peering up at her savior.

A boy. A boy her full-height as he sits crouched on his knees; the angles of his face and the set of his eyes tell her he is older, maybe-sixteen—and those are the only thoughts she can manage before she whispers, horrified, "There were three of them."

"Wha—" is all he says, before his eyes go dark and wide; blood blooms from the knife dug into his shoulder.

Her third captor twists the weapon deeper, and the boy gasps. "I'll kill you, for that. You _fuc_—"

The boy grips onto the hilt and _pulls_—blood comes spilling out as it clatters on the ground, and he lunges for the man's neck. "_You're _going to die, you bastard," he growls. "For what _you've _done. To a little girl and her _family_—"

He's got his hands around the man's throat, but his grasp goes limp as the captor rakes his nails into the stab-wound. The boy yells out in pain, and the man's fingers cage around _his _throat, and Mikasa's hand finds the knife.

The boy's gaze lands on her, and he chokes: "No, _don't_—" but it's too late.

Her mind is made up.

X

The third lies dead, as Mikasa tears a strip of cloth from the hem of her skirt, and wraps it around the boy's shoulder.

"Thank you," he tells her, quietly. "You didn't—"

"…I should be thanking you," she murmurs, ribboning the bandage before leaning away. "I… if you hadn't…I—"

The weight of what has happened hits her like a cold shock, and she feels her world go white, before her eyes feel with tears, as her voice trickles into a sob. "T-thank you…I was s-so scared…s…so cold…"

"Shh, Mikasa," he says, his face somber, and she stills at the sound of her name. In some world remote from her, she feels him wrap the warm, fate-red of his scarf around her neck, and that is when she realizes:

_The Doctor's son was supposed to come today. His name was—_

"Eren," she murmurs, and he says:

"Right here."

At that, the emotions within her relent and the tears fall again, as she asks, "Where do I go? What do I d-do? I'm all… all alone…"

He tightens the scarf at her neck, and the warmth of his breath and the fabric almost outweighs the chill of the moon. "…Come with me."

"W-what?" she rasps.

"You heard me," he tells her, giving a sad, crescent smile. "Don't worry, Shiganshina isn't far." And with that, he stands, holding out his hand for her.

She takes it.


	31. midnight moonshine

**chapter title**: midnight moonshine

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa.

**prompt**: "drunk!eren spills his feelings for mikasa"

**summary**: Eren is drunk, and Mikasa is on babysitting duty. And confessions are made.

**notes: **not a continuation of last chapter. haha, that will come soon though!

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

"Eren, stop."

"…Nah_._"

"Put down the bottle."

"_Make _me!"

"_Eren._"

"M…_M'kasa_."

"You're _drunk_."

"An' you're _not._"

"I don't get drunk."

"I _know '_dat. Your _fuckin' _immune or some shit."

"Without me—"

"I'd _die _of… a'cohol poison…ing. I heard ya the first mill'n times."

"Exactly. _Levi _holds his liquor better than you. And he's…"

"…_Dinky_."

"…Wow. You really are drunk."

"You really are… d'ductive."

"Big words for a drunkard."

"I'm _not _a drunk!"

"You're right. You're just stupid, and reckless."

"...Maybe I _is._"

"Am. You mean _am._"

"Das' what I said._"_

_"_Okay. Okay, Eren, you're—"

"…_Pretty_."

"_What_?"

"What?"

"_I _asked first!"

"Asked what?"

"I asked—'what'—nevermind!"

"Hah. Even goddesses…even goddesses…"

"Eren, what are you _talking _about?"

"Even goddesses 're blind."

"…You're not making any sense."

"I mean… yer good at everything. Nothin' stops you. You're made of fricken' diamonds or somethin' b'cause _no one _is that pretty. But you _still _don't know—"

"Eren… you're—"

"An' it's annoying as _shit _b'cause your so _perfect _and I'm _not _an'…an'…what if I can't…just...protect? Protect you..."

"…Eren. Calm down."

"Don' die… 'kay? Don't… die."

"I won't. You're being silly. You know I won't."

"…But I _don't_. Just… just…let me..."

"…What… what are you doing?"

"I'm holdin'… yer hand."

"Oh."

"It… it feels nice."

"…It does."

"Don' let go. Okay? Everythin'…is blurry. Sideways."

"I won't."

"…I... I know."


	32. operation: wooing mikasa

**chapter title**: operation, wooing mikasa

**pairing**: eren ო mikasa & vague mentions of armin ო annie.

**prompt: **"post-titans eren is absolutely horrible at conveying his affections but tries very hard and often"

**summary**: The Titans are defeated, the world is at peace. But Eren has to win an entirely new battle: wooing Mikasa.

**notes: **post-Titans. The Armin/Annie bits are n line with my aru/ani oneshots _the crystal queen and beckoning. _If you happen to ship them, please check those two out? It would mean the world!

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

It is Armin who finally murmurs, "We did it."

Eren blinks, as if suddenly aware—his Titan limbs and skin fall away like rain, and then _she _comes barreling towards him, arms wrapped around his neck like a vice.

"We're alive, we're alive," Mikasa murmurs, over and over.

His arms close around her and Armin rushes towards them, twining into the embrace. There is only Titan-blood hissing from the ground; from a distance, they spot the others, wide-eyed and still clutching their gear, too shocked to tend to wounds, to count for broken bones.

"We are," Eren repeats, his hands tracing into her hair. "We _are._"

Armin pulls away, very slowly, smiling, water-eyed.

Mikasa, though, lingers against him for a moment longer before she lets go— but not without a small, soft press of her lips at the crook of his neck.

"Eren," she says, red all over.

In this slant of the watercolor, pale sunlight, everything shifts, and despite it all: the blood clinging to him, the sweat of his skin and the swallow of his lungs, the familiarity of the girl before him (_Mikasa, the Mikasa he has grown up with, Mikasa he has held a hundred times, Mikasa he has always known_), something within him changes, and he feels the heat rise from deep, deep in his bones.

And that is how it begins.

**Operation: Wooing Mikasa**

**Preface**

"I'm not gonna _woo _her! For shit's sake, Armin!"

"…Sure. Spend the rest of your Titan-less life in denial. I'll be over here, finding my soulmate approximately nine-thousand years before you ever confess to yours."

Eren almost blurts something back about Armin and Annie, but recognizes himself in time, and only says, "Soulmate? Are you kidding?"

"Nope. But I might as well be. You both are idiots."

"_We're not_!" Eren groans. "And how do I know she even _likes _me that way? You know Mikasa. She just shows a lot of affection."

"To _you_!" Armin resists the urge to smack his forehead. "She. Kissed. You. I'm sorry, Eren, but it doesn't get more obvious than that."

"I—but—well," Eren moans. "Fine. What do I do?"

Armin's face lights up. "Well…"

**Operation: Wooing Mikasa**

**Attempt #1: Compliments**

"So, uh." Eren swallows. "Mikasa."

She blinks up at him from her book; he vaguely remembers Armin lending it to her, the other day. "Mm?" she asks.

This makes his eyes wander to her lips. For whatever reason—and, well.

_Shit. _They look soft. Really soft. Like, well, _silk. _And they're pink—like, like seashells, or whatever Armin calls those gem-things you find near the ocean. Her lips are like _seashell-silk._

He remembers the pulse of them against his neck, and feels his eyes roll back when he finally manages: "Uh, your mouth," he begins.

"…Yes, Eren?"

He wonders vaguely if this is how Jean felt, once upon a time, when he had attempted to win Mikasa over. Realizing this, Eren feels like even more of a dumbass.

He lets out a shaky breath. "Yeah… your lips… are part of your mouth." _More poetic, dipshit! Be more poetic! _"You… do things… with them. Like—like silk… worms. _Silk worms!"_

Mikasa blinks. "My lips are like… silk-worms?"

Eren shouts, "Yes! I _ mean no_! Not at all!" He wants to _die. _"I need to go. Later, Mikasa!"

He doesn't need Armin to tell him that the entire endeavor was a failure.

**Operation: Wooing Mikasa**

**Attempt #2: Gifts**

"Are these… chocolates?"

"Yeah. Um. They're not very common. They came from the Innermost Walls—"

"…Thank you. They look delicious."

"I knew you'd like them!"

"…Really?"

"Yeah! Since, y'know, you eat a lot. And stuff."

"…Oh."

"No—_no! _Not like that. I mean. You're super strong. So you need a lot of food for energy. That's why you weigh a lot—ow! Did you just _throw the chocolate at me_?"

"I'm going to go, now. I'll see you at dinner, Eren. Thanks for the chocolate."

"But you didn't even eat them—ow! You left a bruise!"

**xxxxxx**

"Hopeless, you are _hopeless._" Armin sighs.

"It's not my fault! Your directions _suck_!"

"I told you to _compliment _her, give her gifts, and do nice things for her! It's _you _that sucks, Eren!" Armin is almost about to scream. "And you've called her fat, worm-lipped, have accidentally dropped _hot soup _down her shirt, almost ripped her scarf, twice, almost poisoned her with that perfume, and almost tore out her hair trying to braid it for her! And you two _already are in love with each other. _How hopeless can you be?"

"I—um. Well."

"Go on, then! Do _something_!"

"Yes, sir!"

"…We're not in the army anymore."

"Right. Yeah, got it, Armin! Thanks!"

"…What would you guys do without me?" Armin mumbles to himself, when his best friend leaves.

**Operation: Wooing Mikasa**

**Attempt #38: "Something"**

"Mikasa," he says, gently, if a little resigned. She looks up at him, though, like always, not at all wary, despite the past, hazardous month of attempted confessions.

"Yes?"

Eren swallows. "Um. Wait, your scarf isn't tied right." He moves forward. "Let me…"

She stills as he gets closer, and as he unwinds it from her neck, she says nothing, not until her throat is bare, and he leans in, pressing a kiss to the bare skin.

Her face heats up— her whole body is warm as still as he re-wraps the scarf into a neat, river-tailed knot. "There. Much better," he rasps, cheeks glowing.

"Y-yeah," she murmurs, as his hands then trail to her wrists, and then her own, open palms.

**Operation: Wooing Mikasa**

**Behind the Scenes:**

**"The Brains of The Mission"**

Armin holds the shell of her crystal, and for a moment, it's almost like _she's _there—for a moment, they aren't worlds apart, and for a moment, he is speaking to her:

"They're really hopeless," he says, aloud. "But at least they're happy."

He smiles at the jewel-shard in his hand.

Annie isn't there to smile back.


	33. promises unmade

**chapter title: **promises unmade

**prompt:** eren and mikasa in bed.

**summary: **"If I ever hurt you again..." Eren asks Mikasa a favor. Angst.

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

She is soft, smiling beneath him; the span of her skin is angled with muscle and muted maneuver-gear-scars—he catches a glimpse of the marks on her hips, her thighs, as she wriggles out of her shorts, before she begins to pull his shirt over his head.

He kisses her neck, and then her temple, and then he stills. She pulls him in closer, fingers raking at the nape of his neck. But his palms shift from her waist to her face; he tucks a single strand of hair behind her ear, revealing the old, dip of the scar.

He holds her in place, for a moment, as if she is glass, as if he could break her again, and then Mikasa sighs. She reaches up, traces her fingers around the lash-rims of his eyes. Don't worry, she wants to say. Like a skin-and-bone dreamcatcher, sealing his fears away.

But Eren speaks first. "Did I… did I ever do it again?"

She registers the press of his touch, still on the scar. "No. No, Eren, and you didn't mean—"

"It doesn't matter if I meant it or not." Eren's tone leaves no room for argument. "We've been over this… and… I…"

"I never blamed you. So stop… this. Just—"

"If I do it," he swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing. "If I do it again. If I hurt anyone—if I hurt you—"

"Eren," she pleads.

Whisper-gentle, he picks up her index and middle finger, and brings them to the back of his neck. She feels the ridge of bone, the coil of power, and he carves her touch into a swiping motion.

She stiffens.

"That is what you do."

He drops her hand, then, and leans in close, again, and she starts to say, angrily,"I'd never—", when he says, hoarsely, into her ear:

"It has to be you, okay?" He kisses her there. "Okay?"

She is silent.

Eren trembles in her arms.


	34. double date

**chapter title: **double date

**prompt:** eren and mikasa have a double date with armin and annie.

**pairing: **eren ო mikasa / armin ო annie. modern setting! no angst!

**summary: **Eren and Mikasa go on a double date with Annie and Armin. AU.

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

Mikasa glances at the menu when Eren groans, "Why do we have to do this again?"

"It's to celebrate you two _finally _getting together," Armin chimes. He pulls out a fold of paper from his pocket, and reads: "It _only_ took you seven years, three months, and twenty-four days! Be proud of yourselves."

"You've been _keeping count_," Eren sputters, practically blue in the face. "Of… our…"

"Nonexistent love-life, yes." He puts the sheet away. "Someone had to."

Mikasa suppresses a smile as Eren throws one of his Shiganshina-famous tantrums—complete with his arms crossed around his chest and a pout on the part of his lips.

Armin beams at this, satisfied, when Annie taps him on the shoulder, speaking for the first time all night, "Armin," she says, expectantly, holding her hand out.

"What?" he asks, before his face lights up. "Oh, yeah! Here's your five dollars."

"What," Eren snaps. "is this all about?"

Armin's eyes are sharp with mischief. He shrugs. "She bet that you'd be the one to make the first move. And… I guess that means I owe Krista five dollars, too. Everyone else agreed it'd be Mikasa," he says thoughtfully.

"That's _it?_" Eren seems appalled. "You—_you _bet against me? I thought we were _best friends_!"

Armin grins, "We are. It was kind of shocking, actually. I mean, Mikasa has much more initiative and everything—"

"Thank you, Armin," Mikasa supplies.

"No problem," Armin doesn't miss a beat. "And you're kind of oblivious, Eren. So, I always assumed—"

"You assumed _wrong._" Eren is practically sulking. "Also—speaking of _oblivious _and _lacking initiative_—" He points between Annie and Armin. "_You two _aren't ones to talk! Armin, you couldn't even _breathe _when she was in the same room until a year ago—"

"S-shut up!" Armin snaps.

"And, well…" Annie fixes her hard—_horrifying_—stare on Eren, and he gulps. "Annie was fine. I'm sure she had _initiative._"

"Thank you, Eren," she deadpans.

"Eren," Mikasa says, touching his wrist. They both redden at the contact, and Armin breaks out into an _I-told-you-so _grin. "Calm down. Let's enjoy dinner."

His face softens, and he hooks his thumb through hers beneath the table. "I _am_ being calm," he persists.

"Is a bulldozer calm?" she asks. "Is a massive explosion _calm_? Is a typhoon—"

"_Alright_!" he snaps. "Alright, alright. I get it, don't _nag _me."

"Mm," she says, turning away. "Whatever."

Under the table, their hands are interlaced; Eren squeezes her palm and she sighs happily, despite herself.

Annie tries and fails to suppress a smirk; Armin just smiles knowingly.


	35. jack-o-lanterns & koolaid blood

**chapter title: **jack-o-lanterns & koolaid blood

**prompt:** What about eren/mikasa walking through one of those haunted houses in amusement parks?

**pairing: **eren ო mikasa. some armin ო annie hinted. also, 104th training squad friendship!

**summary: **They have been walking for approximately one minute and thirty-three seconds when Eren _screams. _Eren, Mikasa, and an amusement park Haunted House. AU.

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

"Nuh-uh. No way." Eren doesn't budge. "We aren't going in there."

Armin teases, "Why not? _Scared_?"

"…No. Of _course _not," Eren grumbles, eyeing his shoes, and Mikasa decides to step in.

"It's because _I _am," she deadpans. She tries to erase the unimpressed look on her face as she glances at the Haunted House. "It's terrifying," she says, and at the last minute, she adds on a half-hearted, "_Eek_."

Annie snorts, muttering, _"Whatever,_" and begins to pull Armin by the wrist, before his fingers curl into hers,

Mikasa's gaze darts from their joined hands to the space between her and Eren, and sighs.

"We'll be going, then!" he calls, winking, as Annie drags him inside. Mikasa reddens at the implication.

"_Wait_—" Eren yells, oblivious. "Weren't—_weren't we supposed to go as a group? _Everyone else ditched us, and now _you _guys too?"

Armin just sends him a backwards wave, and Eren mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, "_Et tu, Armin_?", before he clasps Mikasa by the sleeve—careful enough not to touch the skin of her wrist—and pulls them forward.

"Let's go," he murmurs.

Mikasa feels the heat rush to her cheeks, despite the hiss of the October-air. She glances hopefully at their hands, at the almost-touch, but all she can think to say is: "Are you still scared?"

He lets go. "_No_," he snaps. "I'm _so _not."

She tries not to let her disappointment show, and simply grumbles, _"Sure_," before following him into the Haunted House.

x

He glances back to make sure she is there.

She notices.

x

They have been walking for approximately one minute and thirty-three seconds when Eren _screams._

Mikasa blinks as he latches onto her arm, as he swears, under his breath, "Fuck…fucking shit…goddamn _ghost_ bastards…"

"Eren," she says gently, very glad for the lack of proper lighting. She's sure her face is scarlet-flushed. "They're not real. They're people wearing _sheets._"

She holds up a hand in apology to a rather offended looking 'ghost'.

"_Ghost bastards,_" he repeats, ignoring her explanation. "Undead little assholes…"

His grip does not falter on her arm.

x

"Do you really think this'll work?"

"I _know _this'll work. There's nothing like some good, old-fashioned spiritual intervention to bring two idiots together."

"Ymir, they're not spirits. They're people wearing _sheets_."

"Krista, I swear—"

"I still say we should've done the marinacci band."

"Jean, then they'd never get together."

"Exactly, Bowl Cut."

"Don't call Armin that."

"Shi—I mean. Sorry, Annie."

"Hn."

x

After ten minutes, Mikasa feels her arm go numb under Eren's grip. She is caught in the limbo between fulfilled-teenage-girl-fantasy and the urge to pry his hold off with a jackknife.

"Eren—" she begins, the same moment he swears, out loud, _"Holy—_!"

A cartoon-eyed vampire comes bursting out of one of the walls, and Eren—still holding onto her—lunges fearfully away.

And trips.

_Trips._

They land in a pile of koolaid-scented blood. Eren takes the brunt of the fall. Mikasa ends up on top of him.

_Mental note: thank vampire_, she tells herself.

X

Eren looks at her as if he's seeing her for the first time.

"Blue," he murmurs, breath skimming her neck.

Still on top of him, she stammers, "W-what?"

"Your eyes," he says, tracing the air around her lashes. "They're… they have a little blue in them."

She turns away, the heat of his skin prickling her own. "They're just gray, stupid."

X

"Guys, they haven't come out yet."

"They're probably making out."

"Maybe they found snacks?"

"Goddammit, Sasha—"

"There's also a chance Eren is taking a long, fear-induced shit."

"…_Goddammit _Levi."

X

Eren blinks up at her, and Mikasa is suddenly very aware of his body beneath her, of her thigh between his legs, and her mouth hovering over the part of his.

"Um." She leans back, moving to stand. "I should—"

He pulls her back down—by the skin of her wrist. "Don't."

X

Mikasa _more than happily_ obliges.

X

"…Jesus. How long have they been in there?"

"I'm going home."

"Yeah, me too."

"We're just gonna _leave them in there_? Alone? _Together_?"

"Yes, Jean."

"…But. Hey, hey, Marco, what about the marinacci band?"

Marco doesn't even have a chance to answer.

"_No_, Jean_," _everyone says, at once.


	36. understanding

**chapter title: **understanding

**prompt:** "Eren goes to visit Mikasa while she is healing from her injuries sustained in chapter 50."

**pairing: **eren ო mikasa.

**summary: **Eren visits Mikasa in the hospital. Takes place after manga chapter 50.

**notes: **as you can see, i've slightly raised the chapter count again. i've been getting so many prompts from you lovely people! ahhh. and i was wondering, would you rather i cap it off at a certain chapter count, or just sort of leave this fic as an open drop-box for eremika ficlets whenever i can? i don't think i'll always be able to update this often, but the option is open! thanks, let me know guys :)

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

When he walks into her hospital room, the first thing he notices is the way Mikasa is folded into herself, curled into a knoll of bones in the corner of the bed.

The second is her leg; it's propped up at an uncomfortable-looking angle, and wrapped to the knee in bandages.

"It's a small break," is all she says. "It doesn't hurt."

She's not looking at him. Her eyes are focused on the backs of her hands; he watches her gaze bend over her knuckles, her nail-beds, as if they were the most interesting things in all the world.

He moves towards her, confused. "Mikasa, what—"

Her eyes flicker to him for a split-second, when she finally says, "…I thought we would die."

Mikasa's voice is sure but her eyes are lost; her stare is scattered, asking for one hundred things at once and it's jarring, he realizes, it's like seeing a memory rise from the dead. For a moment, she is nine-year-old-Mikasa, the Mikasa of before, the Mikasa with a soul made of something weaker than diamond.

And then she turns away.

"I didn't mean to…" she says, more to herself than anything. "I didn't mean to make you feel like…" Her neck cranes to the ceiling. "like you had to."

_To like me back. To accept my confession. To make that promise._

And that is all it takes for Eren to understand.

"Idiot," he scoffs, before his eyes drift to her neck. "You aren't wearing your scarf."

"_Eren_," she presses, tone pleading. "Were you even—"

"For a prodigy," he says, picking up her scarf from one of the bedside stands. "You sure are stupid."

Her eyes just go wide when he pads towards her, throwing the scarf around her neck in an unceremonious heap. She bristles, and he laughs, before straightening out the fabric at her collarbone.

"As many times as it takes," he repeats, words skimming her jaw. "You heard me say it the first time, didn't you?"

And then, wordlessly, his lips linger there, and Mikasa smiles as she understands.


	37. memorabilia

**chapter title: **memorabilia

**prompt:** "eremika: memorabilia"

**pairing: **eren ო mikasa.

**summary: **They don't find her body.

**notes: **an angsty one. sorry!

**disclaimer**: own nothing

* * *

He doesn't like the feel of it—the weight of it—knotted around his throat like a ghost. Like a promise broken, a snare of fate. But he's weak—always has been, always will be—and he is afraid. He is afraid she will fade into a memory, and he knows enough about the shape of his greed, his yearning, to admit to himself that he _needs more than that._

And sometimes he dreams of her—it's always red and fitful—with her lapsing in and out of his mind's eye like a pendulum, a starry-eyed moon-girl, pulled by the neck to her destiny, falling both up and down and away, away, away from him.

They don't find her body. He and Armin burn incense and Jean contributes with a match dulled by tear-water and no one speaks, but all eyes are on Eren as he holds the strip of scarlet, like it's a beacon of her blood, and ties it around his neck.

"Eren," Armin says, voice hoarse, eyes wet.

"Let's go," he replies, gruffly. He ignores the ache of the scars on his hands and searing, healing wounds that carve into him like glass. His bites down on his lip so hard that it bleeds, but he only focuses on the presence of _her _on his neck, pressing into him like a pulse, like a murmur, like something that could have been, but never will be.

"Mikasa," he says, aloud, when he is alone. Like it's some sort of spell. "_Mikasa_."

Nothing.

She does not come back.

And, he realizes, in some way, neither does he.


	38. shirt off my back

**chapter title: **shirt off my back

**prompt: **"mikasa wears eren's shirt and eren is turned on"

**pairing: **eren ო mikasa

**summary:** The last thing Eren expects to see in his dorm-room is _Mikasa. _On his bunk. _In his shirt._

**disclaimer: **own nothing

* * *

The last thing Eren expects to see in his dorm-room is _Mikasa._

On his bunk. _In his shirt._

In _only _his shirt.

"I…" His eyes dart to her bare legs, and then quickly back to her face. _Good save, Jaeger. _"Uh…"

She's flipping through a training manual. "I ran out of sleep-clothes." Her voice is matter-of-fact. She doesn't even glance up at him. "I found your key under the mat."

Eren intelligently responds with, "Um…"

"Oh, I was waiting for you because I couldn't find wear you kept your shorts?" She stands up now, and the only thought Eren can manage is: _Don't. Look. At. Her. Legs. _"I need a pair."

"…Sure, Mikasa." He swallows, face red, as he makes his way towards the drawer. _It's just Mikasa. You took baths together. It's. Just. Mikasa. _"Here," he says, tossing her the first pair of shorts he can find.

She slips into them like a second skin. "Thanks." She smiles, stepping towards the door, when Eren finds his voice:

"You're… gonna go out like that?"

She shrugs. "The girls dorms aren't far."

He eyes the open-collar at her neck, and the shorts that skim the hollows of her knees.

"I… hold on," he mumbles, before slipping out of his sweater.

"…Eren!" she squeaks, voice high.

He ignores her, as well as the cold, night chill that seeps through the thin material of his undershirt. "Just wear this," he grumbles, holding out the sweater. "You'll be warmer." _And covered._

He doesn't catch her eyes on his collar, on the muscle of his arms.

"Thanks," she murmurs, quietly, reaching forward.

"...Yeah," is all he says, as her hands brush with his.


	39. on the run

**chapter title: **on the run

**prompt: **"eren and mikasa in the 1920s."

**pairing: **eren ო mikasa

**summary:** The year is 1920. The enemies are the Titans, a notorious gang in Trost. And that is how they meet.

**disclaimer: **own nothing

* * *

She's lipstick-pretty, red-mouthed and shadow-eyed as she glances up at him from her wine-glass.

Eren's eyes linger on her for a too-long moment before Armin says, "Remember what we're here for."

"…Yeah," he mumbles. He scans the crowd with a practiced eye; his gaze trails over naked hands and wrists, skimming for the familiar emblem.

_Rings, tattoos, bracelets, _He remembers his group-leader, Levi's words. _The key is in the hands, that's where you look._

"Fucking Titans," he hisses, under his breath, and Armin jabs him in the rib, as if to say, _Are you trying to blow our cover?_

Eren glares, before his eyes snap back to the girl in pearl-white. She's standing a ways off from everyone else, sipping at the same spot of champagne.

Her hands are bare, and he exhales the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He reaches absently for his lapel, when he feels the metal glint of his Survey Corps badge, pinned there—

And then the man comes running towards him.

Armin lets out a gasp and Eren's reflexes are a second too slow: he manages to block the hit, but loses his grip on the man's—_teeth-mark emblazoned, Titan—_wrist, and the second blow lands him in a spread of drink-glasses.

"Eren!" Armin exclaims, darting to him, but when Eren creaks his eyes open, it's the girl flipping the Titan onto his back—he barely catches her hiss of, "You bastards took my family away from me," before another one comes rushing forward.

She kicks him without glancing up, and gaps illicit from the crowd. Armin is helping Eren up the same moment he shouts, to the girl, "Watch out!"

_They travel in packs, _Levi had said, _Like animals. Pigs._

And he was right.

The third is ready to bring her to the ground when Eren charges, plying her from the Titan's path before kicking at his ankles. He catches sight of several more of them honing in, weapons ready, when Armin calls out: "This way!"

Eren doesn't even blink. He pulls her up by the wrist and she doesn't resist as she follows. The kick over the champagne table, glassware nicking at their feet before landing in the Titans' wake, as Armin leads them towards a back-exit.

He hears her voice come from behind him, "But—but, the—"

"There's too many of 'em," he manages, the breath leaping from his lungs.

"I could've—" she argues, before Eren clamps a palm over her mouth, hushing her, following Armin's lead into a side-street alley.

Her eyes are fire-bright, and she almost looks ready to kill him. He gives her a pleading look, gesturing towards the streets.

Not a moment passes before a group Titans go blazing past.

And then she pries his hand off.

"…Sorry about that," he grumbles, and she huffs.

Armin is eyeing the city-scope. "The coast is clear," he whispers, the bones of his shoulders sagging in relief, before he turns to Eren, a menacing look in his gaze. "You _idiot_! We could've gotten killed, all because of your stupid _pin_—"

"I wasn't thinking!" Eren snaps. "And you didn't notice it either."

"Well—"

She clears her throat, and both boys turn to her. "I'll be leaving, then. Thank you for your…help."

And with that, she turns to leave, but Eren finds himself gripping her by the arm.

"W-wait," Eren says, before his eyes travel to the torn bodice of her dress. The jewel-straps split over her arms, and he quickly snaps his gaze away.

"What?" she asks, voice half-hollow. Unamused. He is silent. "Please let me go."

He obliges, before shrugging out of his suit-jacket and handing it to her. She blinks, taken aback, and he tells her, "It's cold out. And your dress…"

She reddens.

"…Thank you," she murmurs, placing the dark-sleeved coat over her shoulders.

Armin clears his throat, loudly, and Eren jolts. "Miss, er—"

"…Mikasa," she says, after a beat.

"Mikasa," Armin repeats. "Back there… you… you're against them, too? The Titans?"

"…Yes. I am," Mikasa responds, at length, before glancing between the pair of them. "And you two…."

"Armin Arlert," Armin introduces, before clapping Eren on the shoulder. "And Eren Jaeger. Members of the Survey Corps."

Her eyes go wide.

Eren mumbles something about _you can't just announce things like that _under his breath, when Armin asks, "So, you've heard of us?" She nods. "You're a good fighter, Mikasa. Do you want… to come with us?"

"Armin!" Eren snarls. "That's…that's _so against protocol_!"

Armin shrugs. "The more, the better."

"But—"

Mikasa interrupts, "Okay," she agrees, simply.

Armin beams. Eren blinks. "Okay?" he asks.

"Yes." She tightens her hold on his jacket around her, before adding. "An enemy of the Titans is a friend of mine."

Armin grins, "Let's go then!" He rushes ahead, back into the moonlit streets.

"Yeah. Let's go," Eren tells her, offering her his hand.

She takes it. "Let's."


	40. keepsake

**chapter title: **keepsake

**pairing: **eren ო mikasa

**prompt:** "mikasa passing down the scarf to her child and explaining the significance behind it"

**summary: **_"Once upon a time, there was a girl. Who was lost. In more ways than one." _Mikasa gives her scarf to her daughter.

**disclaimer: **own nothing

**notes1: **should i continue the 1920s au? anyone lol?

**notes2: **if any of you are interested in the pairing eren/annie (i know, shocking, coming from a super eremika like me!) please check out my fic "dreamscape", featuring them! if not, please enjoy this little family eremika ficlet

* * *

_Are you scared of anything?_

Mikasa smiles down at her daughter. _Like what, Carla?_

_Like monsters. _Carla's eyes are wide. _Like nightmares and empty rooms. Like the dark._

She soothes the crease between the Eren-green of Carla's eyes. Carla sighs into her mother's touch, and Mikasa murmurs. _I used to be._

_Used to? _she asks. _But you're never afraid, Mama. Daddy makes you kill the spiders—_

_Do not! _Eren shouts from the living room, and Carla sticks out her tongue:

_Do too_!

_Do not!_

_Do—_

_Mikasa!_

_Mama!_

_Settle down, _Mikasa chides, and Eren mutters something about 'no piggybacks for a week' and Carla pouts before her mother says, _I have a story._

_What kind?_

_A fairytale._

She unwinds the scarf from her neck; it is frayed with age, the red-threads spilling from the ends, but Carla's eyes go round with excitement when she wraps it around her neck. _Once upon a time, there was a girl. Who was lost. In more ways than one._

Eren is silent in the living room.

Carla yawns, happy and dreamlike, as she nuzzles into the red of the scarf. _And then came a boy. He found her. He tied a promise around her neck. And he led her back to herself._

Mikasa's voice goes tender, and Eren slips silently into the room.

He grumbles, _T__he boy didn't do much. Anyway, the girl found him first. He was actually really dumb, and..._

Carla doesn't hear.

The scarf is warm around her neck, and she is smiling, fast asleep.


	41. part two: a face of sunlight

**chapter title: **part two: a face of sunlight

**pairing: **eren ო mikasa, but not really. this is more of a platonic bond.

**prompt:** "continuation of when eren saves mikasa when he is 16"

**notes: **continuation of chapter 30: a face of moonlight.

**notes2: **CAN YOU CATCH THE HOTARUBI NO MORI E REFERENCE GUYS?

**summary: **When Eren finds out she loves tomatoes, he always ladles his helping onto her plate. AU, Eren saves Mikasa when he is sixteen.

**disclaimer: **own nothing

* * *

When Eren finds out she loves tomatoes, he always ladles his helping onto her plate. She flushes as he dots garden-fruit-hearts onto her food, before asking, "Don't you want them?"

"Eh," he says, ruffling her hair. "I'm good. Eat up, kiddo."

Carla croons something about Eren "always wanting a little sister", and Mikasa is red as her scarf when she eats.

X

When they collect firewood—or, when she tags along—Eren doesn't let her carry anything. He sometimes sleeps against willow-trees and she sometimes tries to pry the odd branch from his hands, but he always smacks her hands away, grinning.

"Nice try," he says, today, but she doesn't let go of the branch in her hand.

She stubbornly refuses to loosen her grip, and _pulls_—and Eren pulls back, although without half as much effort, and the little tug-of-war goes on for the span of several minutes before both of them relent.

He tugs her toward him with the pull of the branch. "We'll just hold it like this, then," he says, gesturing towards their hands, and the branch between them.

They walk back in silence—Eren, back heavy with firewood, and Mikasa, eyes heavy with thought.

"Holding it like this," she finally says, at his prodding glance. "It's kind of like a date…"

At this, Eren laughs out loud. "Not a very romantic one, huh?"

She glances at the breach-of-a-branch between their skin, and agrees.

X

When Mikasa meets Armin, he is reading.

"C'mon, buddy," Eren prods the blond-child. "Drop the book for a minute, will ya?"

The little boy—who can't be much older or younger than Mikasa—beams at the sight of him, eyes lighting up. "Eren!" And then his gaze shifts to her. "Who…"

"This," Eren says, ruffling her hair. "Is Mikasa. Be nice to her, or I won't give you my hunting-money for books anymore."

Armin smiles at her gently, before asking, "Have you ever heard of the ocean?"

X

"You wanna join the Survey Corps?"

Eren nods. "You probably think it's silly."

"No," Mikasa says, wracking her nine-year-old brain for something intelligent to say. "But I think it's dangerous."

"You sound like my mom," he teases, before leaning against the birch-white of the tree. "But, yeah. Since we haven't had war in over a hundred years, the military isn't accepting anyone younger than seventeen."

"So…" Mikasa begins, eyes going wide.

"I have a year." He beams. "Kinda wish it was longer, though. Since my family is bigger now."

Mikasa smiles at this, but it doesn't put a stop to the sick feeling in her gut.

X

When Eren's mother is dying, he tries to dig her out.

Carla pleads, "It's coming." The overloud, Titan-steps blare in Mikasa's ears. "Take Mikasa and _run, _Eren."

"Mika," he calls, ignoring her. "Can you help me out here?"

She doesn't even blink. She digs until her crescent-nails are coated with dirt and blood and the salt of her own tears, the breath of Carla's plea: "Go, please, both of you."

"I'm not leaving you," Eren croaks, and it takes a moment for Mikasa to realize that he is crying. She's _never _seen Eren cry.

"If you don't," Carla begs. "She'll die."

At this, Eren stills. Mikasa feels herself go white with horror.

"Mom." Eren's voice is hoarse. "_Mom_."

"I won't forgive you," she says, and he only nods, slowly, once.

Mikasa feels him pick her up before she registers the distance between herself and the ground.

She cries out, "But Carla—"

Eren lets out a heartbreaking sound, and Mikasa screws her eyes shut as the Titan nears her foster-mother.

X

They find Armin when they arrive at the shelter. He wraps his arms around them in a bone-shattering hug, and it is Eren who pulls away first.

"I'm glad you're safe, kid," he says, his tone still raspy. If Armin notices the stain of tears on his face, he says nothing of it.

And then Eren moves to stand. "You two," he says, pointing between them. "Stay here for a bit with Gramps." He gestures towards Armin's grandfather. "I'll be back in a bit."

X

When Eren returns, it is almost nightfall, and he is holding a sack of coins. Armin hands him a cold ration of bread. Eren takes it with a grateful smile, before tearing it in two, and giving both Armin and Mikasa a half.

Mikasa tries to protest, but Eren hushes her, before placing the coins into her palms.

"…Eren," she murmurs, and he just smiles.

"A month ago," he starts. "The military wouldn't even give me a second glance. But now… with all this." She notices the tenseness in his jaw. "They're short on men. They need me now, more than anything." He laughs. "It's not much, but they gave me this."

She opens the bag, and spots a handful of glittering gold and silver.

"It should be enough for a while," he says, gently.

"What… what are you doing?" Armin asks.

Eren only says, "You two. Don't share your food. Stick together. Don't let anyone bully you, okay?"

"…N-no!" Mikasa darts towards him, arms wrapping around his waist. "No… you can't… you can't…"

"I have to," Eren says, voice faraway. "I'll keep you safe."

He doesn't promise to come back, to see them again.

He ruffles her hair, and Mikasa can't help but wonder if it will be the last time.


	42. the skin of our teeth

**chapter title: **skin of our teeth

**pairing: **eren ო mikasa.

**prompt:** "Eremika first kiss fic? They're both a bit bloodied up from a battle"

**notes: **THANK YOU SOO SO MUCH EVERYONE FOR HELPING THIS FIC REACH 500+ reviews. i am so honored ok ;^;

**summary: **His hands forget to linger, and it's awkward, and she does not know how to hold him, how to love him, but she does.

**disclaimer: **own nothing

* * *

It's not particularly romantic, not how either one of them has imagined it. Because their years of circle-speak and snappy glances have been loaded with daydreams—gossamer and skin-soft—not at all like this, with bone-cracks and blood-hands and new, aching wounds.

They are broken, but they are alive, if barely so, and that is all that they need. The mission is a half-failure, half-success, and they don't know if it makes it worth it—but for now, the faint rhythm of heartbeats, the brush of skin-on-skin is all they are willing to know.

Mikasa leans in first, tentative, as if testing the waters—hesitant to let herself reveal this nuance of her heart, give up this piece of herself first. But Eren meets her halfway, an apology in his eyes, an apology hazy with soul-tiredness and what might be one hundred ghosts, one-hundred fates he will not let her live.

_I'm sorry I've always pushed you away._

"Mikasa—" he says, and it comes out like a rasp.

She hushes him with the part of her mouth and he lets her—this makes her go warm, to the bones. She ends up angled on top of him, and she doesn't know where to put her legs; she notices that his hands forget to linger, press over too many places at once and it's awkward and she does not know how to hold him, to love him, but she does. His lips taste like blood and something sweet, and when he traces his fingers through the knots of her hair, she wonders if he finds it beautiful.

His palms roam under her shirt and her breath hitches and she knows they'll be found soon, knows they'll be pulled apart once again, nursed alive and sent back to this hell of a battlefield, where Eren will lose himself in Titan-skin and bones again, where she will have to watch.

But for now, they stay like this. A boy and a girl, in their own, skin-nail-teeth world, remote from the war, from the blood, from the loss. And he grips onto her like she might disappear into soul and smoke and she does not say _I know _or _I'm sorry _or make any promises farther than where her hands can reach.


	43. dance, dance

**title: **dance, dance, we're falling apart to halftime

**pairing: **eren ო mikasa

**summary:** "Will you be the Swan to my Lake?" Dance!AU.

**notes: **cross-posting from tumblr :)

**disclaimer: **own nothing

* * *

**i. ****age five:**

They meet in dance class.

And it's totally their mothers' doings.

Eren knows because his mom _tells _him so, and from what he understands, it basically happens like this:

Mikasa's mom: "I'm signing up Mikasa for ballet lessons this Spring."

Armin's mom: "Oh! What a wonderful idea, I'll put down Armin's name, too!"

His mom: "Count Eren in, girlies!"

Eren does not like this. One bit. "_Mom, _ballet is for girls!" he protests.

Carla Jaeger doesn't budge. "Who said that? Boys and girls can do whatever they want! And you'll make new friends, Eren! You'll love Armin and Mikasa, their mothers are lovely, _we've _been friends for almost a decade, and…"

Eren would cry at this grave injustice to his pride, if it wasn't so _unmanly._

x

If Mikasa wasn't a girl who had cooties, Eren decides she would be cute.

She has long, black hair—like the sky at night, when there aren't any stars—and her eyes are shiny, like baubles.

"Hi," she says sweetly, from behind her mother's hip. "I'm Mikasa."

"Go on," Carla says. "Introduce yourself, Eren."

Eren almost scowls, _you just told her my name! _but relents: "I'm Eren."

He does not offer his hand to shake or anything because _cooties. _

Armin arrives ten minutes later. He is holding a book to his chest like a lifeline, and his mother has to pry it from him before he introduces, "H-hi, I'm Armin."

_Finally, _Eren thinks. _A boy!_

In greeting, Eren holds out his hand for a fist-bump. Armin blinks blankly at it, and it is Mikasa who ends up returning the gesture with her own curled fist.

"Ahh!" Eren blanches. "Why would you do that? You have…"

"…cooties," Armin finishes, eyes water-wide.

Mikasa shrugs. "That's dumb. If I had cooties, you'd be dead now."

Eren realizes she _has a point. _He notices that he is very much alive, and grins, "You're _right_!"

"Mhm," Mikasa says, cheeks red.

"Time for stretches!" calls their new instructor, Petra.

Armin says, "Let's go, guys!"

It's the start of a beautiful friendship.

* * *

**ii. ****age seven:**

Mikasa's bones are made of water.

Eren believes this wholeheartedly. Armin agrees, informing him that, in fact, the human body is made of seventy percent water, which, uncannily enough, is the same water to nonfluid ratio as the oceans to the earth, and—

Mikasa stretches her leg until it is nearly parallel to her neck. And holds form.

"So cool!" a group of girls croon, and Eren scowls, trying to imitate her, but his leg stops halfway up his torso.

He keeps attempting to do this until he sees Mikasa slip towards him, hand on his arm. "Here, I'll show you."

"I don't—" _need your help_! He almost snarls, but the look in her eyes is determined, and kind of pretty and sparkly, and—"Okay," he relents.

* * *

**iii. ****age nine:**

Shiganshina is a small town. Armin, Eren, and Mikasa all go to the same school, take the same classes, and take the same routes to their homes in the same neighborhood.

But, as they come to realize, they can't stay in the same dance levels forever.

"You need to stop flunking on purpose!" Eren snaps. "Petra knows you're the best in our age group. She's starting to get pissed—"

Mikasa tilts her head. "I get stage fright, that's all."

"Stage fright," Armin repeats, unconvinced.

"Yes."

"Stage fright," Eren says, slowly, "that had made you fail the intermediate test four times?"

At this, Mikasa deflates. "I… I just want to stay with you guys."

Eren's face softens, at this, and Armin tells her, gently, "We'll all still be a part of the same place. You'll just be a little higher, is all. And we'll work hard to get into intermediate, too."

"…Promise?"

Eren tugs at her scarf—a gift he gave her for her eighth birthday. "Promise."

* * *

**iv. age eleven:**

Eren is the first one to find out about the Survey Corps.

"They're this _really, really _cool dance troupe," he explains to Armin and Mikasa, his eyes bright. "They take all different kinds of dancers and form one group mixing all of their styles!"

Armin asks, "How old do you have to be to audition?"

"…Thirteen is the youngest." Eren sighs. "But we'll totally practice and get in, right guys?"

"I'm in if you are," is what Mikasa says.

"D'you even have to ask?" Armin chimes.

* * *

**v. ****age thirteen:**

Eren knows that boys like Mikasa. Eren knows that Mikasa is pretty. Eren knows that Mikasa is a _girl. _Eren knows these things because he'd have to be_ a fucking idiot _not to.

And yet.

The minute he lays eyes on Jean Kirschtein, he wants to make his horse-face go concave.

Jean Kirschtein, Eren inwardly mulls over, is the kind of tool that needs to be addressed by his full name at all times. Jean Kirschtein is also the special brand of tool that has managed to set a record in regards to confessing _undying love_ to Mikasa.

It takes about fifty-four seconds. Armin times it.

He's sitting with a freckled boy, who murmurs something, and Jean Kirschtein responds with, "I-I can't do that!" about seven times, complete with completely _not subtle _glances in Mikasa's direction, before swallowing and standing up. He saunters—or at least tries to—over, with his stupid face and stupid tallness and his stupid grin. Mikasa is stretching, and the look in her eyes tells Eren she is practicing her audition-dance out in her head, but stupid effing Jean Kirschtein doesn't seem to know/care, because he stupidly walks up to her and says:

"Hello."

Mikasa barely glances up. "Hi."

"Um." He turns away for a half-second; the freckled boy gives him a thumbs up. Jean Kirschtein (full name required) clears his throats before saying, "You're very pretty."

Mikasa says, "Thanks."

Jean Kirschtein, Eren notices smugly, is sweating balls. He's almost sweating as much as that super-tall Fubar kid—Bart, or was is Bert?—who did that _killer backflip _during his solo audition.

"Would you," he starts. Mikasa spares him a look. He seems to regain his composure, and asks 'suavely', waggling eyebrows and all, "care to be the Swan to my Lake?"

_Silence. _The entire room goes _freaking silent. _Eren has to resist the urge to laugh out loud.

And then, Mikasa, after giving him a once over: "I don't like stagnant water."

Jean Kirschtein blushes. Armin snorts. The tall girl who is _definitely _dating the tiny blonde girl—Ymir, or something—cackles aloud.

And despite his—relief? no, totally _not _relief— Eren can't help but feel a little bad for the guy. Mikasa has never been one to let 'em down easy.

"Sorry, man," he says, to Jean (he's been demoted to first-name-only basis, now), not sounding very sorry at all.

"Screw you, Jaeger," Jean (Kirschtein) snarls, before storming away.

Eren smirks, and Mikasa looks away when he catches her eyes on him.

X

"Pair one: Ackerman, Jaeger. Pair two: Leonhart, Arlert. Pair three: Renz, Fubar—"

"Looks like we're partners for the auditions," Eren whispers to Mikasa, who smiles brightly.

Armin, however, looks less than excited. "Who's L-Leonhart? Don't tell me… is it that girl… Annie?"

"Why Armin," Eren mocks. "is somebody a _little bit shy_?"

Mikasa says, "You called her pretty, earlier."

"I... I mean… she _is_… but…"

Eren shoves him, "Go get 'er, tiger."

"You _first_," Armin sneers, and Eren and Mikasa go red at the same time.

X

"He's totally checking her out."

"_No. _She's checking _him _out."

"No way! He's totally trying to give her an eyeful—"

"Eren! Armin isn't…isn't a _floozy_!"

"Jeez, did you have to hit so hard? And nobody in this century is a _floozy._"

"Why, you—"

"Ackerman, Jaeger, you two are up!"

* * *

**vi. ****age fourteen:**

"Ow, Eren! You dropped me _again_," Mikasa snaps.

"It's because you're _heavy._" From somewhere in the corner, Krista and Sasha gasp at this grave mistake, but Eren does not stop. "What did you eat for lunch? And where do you put it all? You don't look _half _as much as you weigh—"

"Did you just call me fat—"

"Ah," Levi sighs. "This brings back memories of your failure of an audition."

"You love us, midget," Mikasa deadpans, and Levi's brow twitches. Eren just looks on in shock.

"You should thank your lucky stars. And Petra." Levi presses his fingers into his temple. "I've never seen so many failed lifts in my life."

"I was nervous, _jeez_!" Eren snaps, and from somewhere in the room, Jean adds in, _sure, if that's what you wanna call it. _

Armin, in the middle of doing a lift with Annie, chimes in, "Who would've guessed that Heichou was dating someone as pretty as P—"

Levi doesn't even blink. "Arlert, ten pushups, now."

"Haha, sucks for you!"

"Twenty for Jaeger."

"_Shit_."

X

Mikasa splits his pushups with him.

As if he didn't need another reason to be _madly fucking in love. _

* * *

**vii. ****age fifteen:**

"Stop nagging me!"

"You're not taking care of yourself! You haven't slept well in days!"

"You're not my mom!"

"I don't wanna be! You're probably a handful for poor Carla!"

"Don't bring my mom into this!"

"You brought her in first—"

"We are going on stage in T-minus _five minutes, _you idiots!" Armin hisses. "Calm yourselves before I _make _you."

"_We are being calm—"_

"Jesus," Ymir snaps. "Just _fuck _already."

"That's what I was gonna say," Levi adds, coming out of _nowhere. _"Alright, the curtain's coming up, have fun, kiddos. Don't fuck up—until afterwards!" he adds, eyeing Eren and Mikasa.

Eren swallows, before grudgingly offering Mikasa his hand, before both of them smile into the stage-light.

x

"Where are Eren and Mikasa? The show just ended and—"

"Do you even have to ask, Jean? For the love of _God_."

X

Eren has always been one to take his teacher's words _very seriously._

But honestly. "How many fucking buttons does this costume have?"

Mikasa groans, "Just _kiss _me, already, you dolt."

Eren obliges.

After all, he has _always _been one to take Mikasa's words _very seriously, _as well.


	44. the girl in the red scarf

**title: **the girl in the red scarf

**pairing: **eren ო mikasa

**summary:** "I'm Mikasa," she says. He has the urge to say '_I know', _and it takes him a moment to realize that he _doesn't. _Reincarnation, AU.

**notes: **for eremika week, day 1: _scarf._

**disclaimer: **own nothing

* * *

There is a girl in a red scarf.

She comes by nearly every day; Eren finds her pretty in a way that reminds him of ivory and bone-china—fragile, but spined with teeth.

She swallows books like water, and as he stocks shelves and stacks paperbacks like towers, he can't help but wonder if she's searching for something—in Hemingway, Kafka, _whatever _it is she always has between her hands and beneath her eyes.

Or, maybe she just likes reading. Armin would've told him this, point-blank, but Armin _quit _working at the Shiganshina Book-Shop _three _weeks, ago, and the only reason Eren hasn't ditched, too, is—

—currently paging through a historical atlas.

…Weird.

Eren tilts his head from the ladder, squinting at the page she's glossing over from where he stands. It's a map—_duh_, _idiot, _he almost says to himself—but he can't quite read the year or see the shapes, and he cranes his neck for a better angle, leaning his palm against the shelf.

And loses his balance.

"Shit!" he exclaims, feet slipping between the rungs; he tries to grasp on something but the ladder is quaking, and he has an armful of books in one of his arms and nothing to grasp in the other and she's standing up from her book, eyes wide and she paces towards him and then he _falls._

He doesn't… die, or break his neck, or anything at all, really—he was only halfway up the steps, and the fall was only a few feet. But the girl is peering over at him, eyes wide and starlike as she asks, urgently, "Eren, are you alright?"

He blinks up at her, half-blushing, half-humiliated. "I'm fine."

And then her words catch up with him. "How do you—"

"Your nametag," she says, quickly, and it comes out too breathy. She turns away, before getting up, and offering him a hand.

"…Thanks," he says, taking it. The feeling is oddly familiar, but he shakes it off.

She rushes back to her seat, not before picking up the atlas. Eren notices the dates blaring from the cover: _Year 745 A.D. – 900 A.D._

"I'd like to buy this," she says, hurriedly picking up her coat and her bag.

Eren just nods, a little dazed, saying, "Sure, I'll ring it up in the front."

The walk to the register is less awkward than he expects it to be; they move in a similar rhythm, he realizes, which sounds stupid but feels like something warm, like the reemergence of a memory he never knew he had.

"I'm Mikasa," she says, out loud, the minute he steps behind the counter. He has the urge to say _I know, _and it takes him a moment to realize that he _doesn't. _

He smiles. "Eren," but not without adding. "You already knew, that, though."

She blushes, but there's a certain slant of disappointment in her eyes he doesn't miss. He scans the atlas, reading the price aloud, but can't help but ask, "Are you studying historical geography, or something?" He takes the bills from her hands. "This is kinda random."

Mikasa shakes her head. "There's just… something I was checking."

"I had to research one of those for class, once." He blanches. "It's just a bunch of wars and border-battles. Walls being built and being broken down."

Mikasa seems to freeze, but manages a small quirk of her lips.

"_What_?" he asks, harsher than he expects it.

Mikasa takes the bag with her atlas, and slips her change into her pocket.

All she says is, "You remind me of someone."

And then she leaves.

Eren blinks after her; for whatever reason, he has the urge to stop her, but simmers it away.

_Stupid, _he thinks to himself. _You're so stupid, insulting her taste in books, what an idiot!_

When he walks back to the mess he made: ladder strewn, books scattered, he silently thanks his lucky-freaking-stars that no one else was working this shift with him. He's about to start fixing everything up when he notices _it_, sprawled over one of the reading-chairs.

The red scarf. _Mikasa's _scarf.

He picks it up, and the feel of it is familiar in his hands. And then the math starts working backwards in his head: _She left a few minutes ago, she could've only walked a couple blocks, I can still make it in time—_

He's about to bolt, when he catches sight of the slip of paper on the table, folded in half. On the outside, he sees _his _name shaped in perfect cursive: _To Eren._

When he pulls it open, there is only one word: _Remember._

For a moment, there is nothing. For a moment, the scarf feels like nothing in his hands and the sheet is blank as his mind and he is a sixteen year old boy working the night-shift at some third-rate bookshop, a sixteen year old boy with a maybe-crush on a girl in a red scarf who is just a girl now that he has the red scarf, and _then _she is not just a girl at all, she is _Mikasa_—the name goes heavy in the backs of his eyes and the note says _Remember _and then he _does_: _Let's go home; I'll always be by your side; I'll never ask for anything; Don't die; I'll do it as many times as it takes—_

The scarf weighs down like a lifetime in his hand. _Mikasa._

And then he runs after her.


	45. boys will be

**chapter** **title**:boys will be

**summary:** "…They were saying bad things about you." Eren gets into a fight.

**notes: **for eremika week, day 2: fight.

**notes2: **setting: when mikasa first moves in with the jaegers. they are both about nine.

**disclaimer: **own nothing

* * *

Eren stumbles inside with a cut lip and a bruise-blooming eye; Mikasa abandons the sugar-potatoes she's been peeling and darts towards him. She grasps onto his arm and he lets her, his weight pressing against her. That is the moment she becomes afraid.

"Carla isn't home," she blurts. "She went out to buy threading. You—are you okay? What happened? Who—"

"'M fine," he says, quietly, offering no more.

Mikasa sighs, leading him towards the living room, sitting him down gently. She realizes that he has a bit of a limp—he must have twisted something, and it takes him a second to recognize himself as he folds his legs beneath him and sits. She digs through the Jaegers' medicine-chest, pulling out salve and a ribbon of bandages, before turning back to him.

"Who did this?" she demands, again, eyes clouding. Eren doesn't look at her. "_Tell _me. You should've let me come with you to the market. I wouldn't have let—"

"_No._" His eyes rise up to meet hers, and they are bristling edens. There is no room for argument. "I'm okay. It's fine, Mikasa, just _drop _it."

His words aren't hard. Not mean. She can tell he's pleading with her, she just doesn't know _why, _and simply settles for dabbing salve along his eyelid and the red of his mouth. His skin is hot to the touch, and his eyes lace shut; she tries to feign ignorance when she catches the blush in his cheeks.

Instead she asks, "Why?"

His eyes creak open, his gaze lingering upwards as she almost protests—_I was putting medicine on the bruise—_but then he fixes his stare on her, and she swallows, catching the sadness in his look when he finally relents: "…They were saying bad things about you."

Mikasa stiffens, her touch stilling; Eren stares down at his hands—cut and dotted with dried blood that may or may not be his own. Mikasa does not ask _who _or _what _they said; she knows these things already, knows the judging glances, the words whispered behind their teeth, the boy-girl-child-jeers: _The Jaegers' little whore. Bed-warmer. Pretty, pretty, they should give everyone a turn. _

Eren murmurs, "I couldn't… just…" He exhales. "I won't let them. I don't care if they hit me. I'm okay. Mikasa, so don't—"

Her shoulders quake, and her head dips forward; Eren lets out an urgent, "_Mikasa_?" and he moves to touch her, with his broken little hands, and Mikasa can't help it; the tears begin to fall, and her body sways with her weeping.

"…Thank you," she whispers. His hands curl over hers. "…Eren…thank you…"

"Shh," he says, his fingers trailing calming rivers over the backs of her palms. "Stop crying, Mikasa."

_I'll always be here, _he does not say, and he does not have to. _I'll always do what I can_.

Eren smiles at her through his broken lip, his promise loud and clear with all of the unsaid.


	46. a cruel world

**chapter title**: a cruel world

**pairing: **eren ო mikasa

**notes: **for eremika week, day iv: _a cruel world_

**summary: **She kisses the skin above his heart. "Even I can't protect you from what's in there."

**disclaimer: **own nothing

* * *

When Mikasa slips out of her night-dress, Eren's eyes shift to the slim curve of her back, the bone-breadth of her spine, and then the _scar._

It's red, a new, curving crescent— surrounded by skin that is no-longer young and moon-pale, but littered with a constellation of battle-traces, both old and new.

He steps towards her, the word, "_When_…" caught in his throat, and he suddenly feels out of place in his scarless, Titan-healed skin.

Mikasa notices. "I don't remember," she admits, letting the fabric of her scarf fall. Eren is acutely aware of her eyes on the smooth surface of his neck, his chest. "They all blend together, in some way or another."

He turns away, and she steps into him; impulsively, he presses a kiss to the shallow-white scar on her temple, and she softens. Her fingers trace along his collarbone, down his arms, and she murmurs, "It's nothing to be ashamed of. Nobody blames you."

"I know…" he mumbles, but his eyes dip away.

"It's a cruel world," she tells him, mouth trailing along his ear. "None of us are left without scars. And you…"

She kisses the skin above his heart. "Even I can't protect you from what's in there."

A sad, sad sound escapes from his lips, and he traces her, hands lingering over every angle—he blunts his nails, his teeth, and she notices, but does not stop him; instead, she folds herself on top of him when they make it to the bed.


	47. beacon hair and boy stares

**chapter title**: beacon hair and boy stares

**pairing: **eren ო mikasa

**notes: **for eremika week, day v: _a beautiful world_

**_notes2:_**_ post-Titans-verse!_

**summary: **His gaze darts skyward, and he looks ready to keel over, when he finally manages, "Don't cut it. It's… it's nice."

**disclaimer: **own nothing

* * *

Everything becomes inexplicably larger and smaller, all at once; the walls have fallen, and the world is eden-green, with the sky sighing wide and blue and open, empty of haunts and ghosts and Titans, and Mikasa decides, that for the first time in a long time, everyone is _free._

And yet she finds herself lingering on the in-betweens, the snappy moments; not the big-picture, not the taste of bloodless air in her lungs or Armin's saltwater songs. She finds herself noticing Eren's pointed glances and his idle touches, to her wrist, her lip, her hair.

They are war-children, sword-spined and bone-hearted and not at all familiar with _this_—this slant of their bond, this color of a glance, a touch. Sometimes she wonders if she's imagining it, and sometimes she wonders how close two people's lips can be before it's considered something more, and she wonders if Eren is wondering, too, and she wonders if there is another word for _wonder_—and—

Eren runs his hands through her hair these days, like a force of habit that doesn't fit, like he wants to say something more of it, and it's almost like when they were children—wall-children—and he made flush-faced comments about how if she combed her hair she could _perhaps _be rather pretty, and how he grudgingly admitted it reminded him of twilight. And then, on the cold, squadron night, when he held it like a sliver of a beacon and told her, bare-eyed, to cut it away.

"It's getting long," he says, this time—not before awkwardly clearing his throat—"Your hair, I mean," and Mikasa smiles knowingly.

"I guess I should cut it," she murmurs, giving a slight nod. Eren's grip on the strand of hair falters, and she adds, "I haven't let it grow out since…"

"No!" he blurts, and when she blinks at him, he backtracks, half-stammering, "That's… that's not what I meant."

She asks, eyes probing, "Hm?"

"Don't…" His gaze darts skyward, and he looks ready to keel over, when he finally manages, "Don't cut it. It's… it's nice."

"Nice," she repeats, not sure if she has heard right.

"Nice," he affirms. "Nice like… nice-nice. Pretty-nice. Y'know… pretty."

Mikasa's face lights up, at this, and she says, "You like it, then."

He does not say anything back, at first; instead, he tugs at a piece of her hair, and she wrinkles her nose in protest, before dipping in, close to her ear.

"I like _you_."

X

The wedding invitations are sent out one month later.


	48. fortune favors the brave

**chapter title**: fortune favors the brave

**pairing: **eren ო mikasa

**notes: **for eremika week, day vii: _future._

**_notes2:_**_ pre-canon. _young!eremika.

**summary: **Fate has tied the two of you by the throat.

**disclaimer: **own nothing

* * *

Mikasa spots the stall on their way back from the market—the sun is setting, the sky going dull, and there is a woman lighting candles along a table, littered with faced-cards and colored crystal.

She stares on with wide eyes, pulling at the end of Eren's sleeve. He blinks at her, and then the woman, before sighing, "Oh. The Shiganshina Festival is coming up. She usually palm-reads for it, but sometimes sets up her stall at night."

"Palm-reading?" Mikasa asks, blinking down at her hands.

"She says she can tell you your future," he tells her, scowling. "by looking at your hands. Like a fortune teller. It's a _total _sham—"

He trails off when he catches the line of Mikasa's gaze, lingering on the candle-lit stall, along the messy constellation of cards and crystal. The grinning woman sitting behind.

"…My mom." Mikasa manages the words without choking on them; Eren is silent as she speaks. "My mom went to one, once. A fortune-teller."

Eren's stare splinters; it's a sad, meadow green, when he chances, "What… what happened?"

_Your love will lead you to your grave._

"…They were right," is all she says, before shifting her eyes to the ground. She feels hollow, suddenly, helpless; her hands make sharp, bony fists—with her nails teething crescents into the skin. From her periphery, she notices the outline of Eren's form coming closer; she keeps her gaze grounded, and sees Eren's feet stepping closer, closer.

And then; a hand on her wrist.

"Let's go," he says, not unkindly, pulling her forward. She blinks away any wetness in her eyes, hardening as they pass by the palm-reading stall.

The woman's voice comes from behind them, pricking the backs of their necks:

"Fate has tied the two of you by the throat." She laughs, like her lungs are made of jewels. "By the hands, too. Red, red, red. How many shades of it do you know?"

For a moment, Mikasa feels the hilt of the dagger in her palm. For a moment she is acutely aware of the scarf on her neck and the press of Eren's wrist against hers.

He only pulls her harder, and waits until they are in view of the Jaeger's cottage before finally mumbling, "She was right."

He does not sound angry, or resigned. Sad. Happy. But his hand is still clasped onto her wrist, his finger knotted over the river of her vein. Mikasa stares down at their hands, and for a moment, she can see it: the stain of scarlet, and then it is gone, again. And they are child-palms again, connected at the bones.

"Let's go in," she tells him, gently.

_Fate has tied the two of you._

When he lets go of her hand, she still feels its presence, lingering.


	49. down, down, down

**chapter title**: down, down, down**  
**

**pairing: **eren ო mikasa.

**setting: **modern AU.

**notes: **pretend like it's normal for a school to have 16 floors

**summary: **The funniest things happen in elevators.

**disclaimer: **own nothing

* * *

"Come _on_," Mikasa grunts, pulling Eren by the crook of his elbow.

He resists, "No _way_—I can't—I need to kick his _ass_!"

"You will not," she says, coolly. "Be kicking _anyone's _ass on school property. Where Principal Heichou can and _will _expel you."

"But—"

"No." She slams her palm onto the 'down' button of the school elevator. "We're leaving."

It opens a second later. Mikasa steps in gracefully and Eren stumbles in behind her, glaring, lips pressed into a scowl. "I could've taken him."

She sighs, leaning against the metal-mirror of the wall. "Why did you have to charge at that guy, anyway? In the middle of the hall?" She shakes he head. "You didn't even know him. Even Jean looked shocked when he saw you."

He doesn't respond, at first; instead, both of their eyes trail towards the blank floor-reading.

Eren clears his throat, before pressing the "lobby" button.

_Floor 16._

Silence.

_Floor 15._

Silence.

_Floor 14. _

"Eren."

_Floor 13. _

"…He."

_Floor 12._

"Well, y'know…"

_Floor 11._

"He was pissing me off. He… "

_Floor 10._

"Eren, just say it."

_Floor 9._

"Hewaslookingatyouwrong_okay_?!"

_Floor 8._

Silence.

_Floor 7._

"He was… saying stuff. About you. I didn't care that he was an upperclassman. And I…"

He trails off, eyes glued to his feet.

_Floor 6._

Silence.

_Floor 5._

"…Oh."

_Floor 4._

"You're still…such an _idiot_."

_Floor 3._

"…I'm sorry."

_Floor 2._

"_Idiot._"

She steps towards him, now, eyes shy as they linger on his lips, and Eren's gaze goes wide.

"…Mikasa?"

She closes the space between them, tentative.

His lips find hers, first.

_Floor 1._

Silence.

And then, when the doors open:

_"Oh my god, you two!_ Find a room!"


End file.
